


Grooming

by UnravelMySoul



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Anxiety Attacks, BAMF Ned Leeds, Bottom Peter Parker, Dissociation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, Good Friend Ned Leeds, Heavy Angst, Hurt Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Justice, M/M, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pre-Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Protective Ned Leeds, Protective Tony Stark, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Separation Anxiety, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:29:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25217788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnravelMySoul/pseuds/UnravelMySoul
Summary: May Parker begins to piece together a horrific picture between Peter his AP English teacher. Upon asking about the nature of their relationship, he clams up and becomes defensive. She instantly goes to Tony Stark.Takes place after Homecoming, before Endgame and therefore Far From Home as well.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man)/Original Male Character(s), Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 82
Kudos: 369





	1. Grooming

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


#  **GROOMING**

By UnravelMySoul

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Alternatively titled: _Take Him to the Groomers, Please, and Whispering Woods_

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Grooming

Dear you,

  
I won’t include WARNINGS for each chapter, but please **be aware of the tags** and read at your own risk. If this is triggering, _I truly do not recommend this story for it is not easy to read._

 _Please_ be safe and kind to yourself, I would never try to hurt someone on purpose so please, I urge you to really consider yourself before proceeding.

Thank you~

🌙✨


	3. Jakub Lewandowska

Wonderful. Another missed transit this month. That’s _seven_. The L train is old but it’s a thrill to hear when you’re underneath it and you feel the vibrations, sometimes that’s when you think it’s really going to go. It never does, of course, it’s old but reliable. Aunt May knows nothing about his failures to catch the train, and miraculously, it’s because he still makes it on time. Jumping from roof to roof, slinging himself within the blind spots of the alleys until he makes it to the L train that’ll lead him right to school. 

Except a turn of events would seem appropriately expectant today and the L train he’d usually be on is stalled, smoke or steam coming out of the engine in a steady stream. So much for reliability. Ned would probably say he jinxed himself when he hears about this. Midtown Tech is about a three hour trek on foot, but as Spider-Man he can cut that time down to a five minute sling. The only thing about doing this is that Aunt May doesn’t necessarily like it all too much. She’d prefer he behave like a powered-down 15 year old boy during normal people hours and be Spider-Man when he needs to be. Peter would classify now as a “need to be”. Mr. Stark taught him to find loopholes because they’re practically everywhere- he also said May probably shouldn’t know their little secret. That promise is to be kept, so long as the looping wasn’t done towards Mr. Stark, obviously.

A shrill bell notifies him that his first period, English, has either started or he has about another two minutes to make it there before it does. Sure enough, he’s late. This is the only class he doesn’t have Ned to back him up in during times like these. Where excuses are concerned, his best friend knows them all about as well as he knows every character in the Star Wars franchise. Peter can’t necessarily blame his asthma because no one has seen him with his inhaler in months, as he magically got a set of new lungs-otherwise if you take P.E. with him then you know that inhaler would be clutched tightly in his sweaty palms while he wheezes each lap, each sit up. That’s _if_ he was still nerdy ol’ Penis Parker and not the awesome acrobat, buff, web slinger who saved them all during decathlon. It’s like they all forgot about it by homecoming. 

“You’re late,” the teacher up front says without turning his back.

“Sorry, my uh train got stalled,” Peter supplies before taking his seat around the middle right side nearest to the wall.

They sit alphabetically. Never really mattered for him though, if they used first or last names, he always knew he’d be somewhere in the middle. He’s never seen this teacher before, not even as a substitute.

He purses his lips and says, “Understandable,” turning away from the whiteboard and looking about the room. Peter raises his hand to be seen and the teacher offers a professional smile, “and your name is?”

“Peter,” Peter stops at that and watches the teacher raise an eyebrow, “Parker. Peter Parker, sir.”

Students snicker around him, taking note of his awkward social skills, the professionalism that somehow makes him a nerd, and he _knows_ they’re going to mock him for it later. Of all the amazing abilities and sight rectifying changes he was bestowed upon, the spider bite couldn’t give him a _little_ less social suicide tendencies? Seriously, he swears his anxiety has skyrocketed since taking on his alter ego, which he could chalk it up to having to keep it all a secret. How Tony Stark walks around with everyone knowing he’s Iron Man, he’ll never know. There’s got to be a constant target on his back living like that.

“Allll right,” the man drags the word out as he searches for Peter’s name on the roll call sheet.

It’s one thing to miss the train, it’s another to be late. He already got detention and had that disciplinary lecture from Captain America, to which he was the only one paying attention. 

“As I was saying, I’ll be your new AP English teacher. You may call Mister,” he begins writing a rather long name, “Lew-an-dows- _ka_. Not Mike Wazowski. Not Kowalski. Not kotlet schabowy or kiełbasa. Lewandowska.”

Only a few students laughed at his attempt at joking, Peter’s too focused on how to pronounce it and not to screw up twice in the same class.

“I’m a first generation American, my father petitioned for my family to come here from Poland. He was a well established lawyer and was very persuasive with getting his way most times. Wasn’t too psyched to hear I wanted to be an English teacher. I’m allergic to gummy bears and my favorite color is red,” Mr. Lewandowska smiles as he looks at his students. “On that note, let’s go ahead and close our books, I feel like you all are strangers to me. A learning experience is best experienced within an environment of trust and security, yeah?”

And that’s what they did. Books closed and stored in their bags, he goes through alphabetical order and asks the same three questions: 

  1. Where are you from?
  2. Any allergies we should know about?
  3. Your favorite color
  4. Favorite hobbies



Peter’s answers would have been cooler if he could say he had no allergies and that his favorite hobby was being Spider-Man, except that’s not the case and he had to tell the teacher he’d give him a list of allergies later and his hobbies included decathlon and LEGO building. Except everyone knows of this already. It’s become a thing that all his teachers keep his allergy list taped to their filing cabinet. Keeping his LEGO enjoyment under wraps is near impossible with how Ned gets hyped up about it, equally ramping him up too. Those small plastic blocks are actually really fun and people need to leave him alone about it already.

Mr. Lewandowska voices a stern stop on the snickering and name calling, however for the remainder of class he doesn’t comment once on some of the students getting flustered or laughed at for mispronouncing his name.

After class Mr. Lewandowska calls him over with a shout of his name. He turns around and comes back into the classroom to stand beside his desk.

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t worry about being late today,” he begins with a small smile, “I saw how bummed you got. Your train was stalled, don’t sweat it. I marked you on time.”

“Oh!” Peter can’t hide his gratitude and smiles brightly, “Thank you, Mr. Lowan-Lewandowska. Sorry.”

“That’s alright,” he softly laughs, “no one gets it right the first try. You can just call me Mr. Lew. In fact, I should’ve told the other students that. Oops.” There’s no seriousness in his tone, clearly hinting on more sarcastic than anything else. “I don’t like bullies all that much.”

Oh. _Oh!_ None of the other teachers have done this before, they’re usually the ones to say “knock it off” but then forget to hold that underlying threat by the second time he’s targeted. Mr. _Lew_ went as far as to make a passive attack in favor of Peter, the kid who was late on his first day.

Peter laughs wanting to say more, a thank you, but the bell chimes and Mr. Lew is telling him to beat it in the same friendly tone. 

“Bye, Mr. Lew!” Peter waves off as he exits. English might be a class he can enjoy now.

At lunch, Ned is on another tangent over when to start their newest Star Wars set: Sandcrawler. 3,296 pieces of pure joy and frustration wrapped into one. It’s around 400 pieces less than the Death Star, but Ned says he needs time to recover-especially after having dropped it when he discovered Peter’s secret. After this, they might even be ready for the Millennium Falcon! All’s well so far, Flash hasn’t tried tipping his lunch tray, hardly anyone is scoffing at their conversations, and MJ only gave him three side eyes. 

“Hey, look, he’s my new AP English teacher,” Peter cuts in Ned’s talk about spider eggs and slyly points in his direction.

“Mr. Lowhatshisface?”

“Just Lew,” Peter corrects, feeling the need to stand up for the guy because he was secretly on Peter’s side. “He’s pretty cool. Do you have him for honors?”

“Nooo,” Ned extends in thought, “after Mrs. Cooper got spooked with the whole my-student’s-father-is-a-villain she dipped. People say she moved to Berlin. I got this old lady now.”

“Man, that sucks. Mrs. Cooper was nice.”

That’s the case with most teachers that taught here. Not only was Vulture a close threat, but many of them blamed the school for putting students at risk by not having better screening procedures. They all received background checks after they test to get in and if Aunt May hadn’t been so hard, they might not have let him in with where he comes from and all. After some thought, he can see why they accepted him in the end-not that May wasn’t helpful. It would look good on their part for accepting an orphaned kid from the low end of Queens as some type of charitable deed. Majority of people here don’t require government assistance with lunch or books, unlike Peter. A lot of them don’t know of Peter’s background, and he’d like to keep it that way, otherwise they might pity him. Being pitied is a heck of a lot worse than bullied, in his opinion. 

As November starts, people around school feel like better Samaritans to appease their Halloween troubles. Girls dressed rather...blushingly exposed around his neighborhood. No offense to them! He can’t help the stuttering or sweating when pretty girls go off like that. Even as Spider-Man his swag is none. But the guys who _did_ dress as the spidey slinger, all had girls slinked around their arms and it made Peter envious. 

The mask doesn’t hide his nature to be soft, kind, and courteous. Not that he has difficulty being tough and serious, he’s learned how his actions can save or let down innocent lives. It’s aged him vastly, it’s shown him fears he didn’t know existed.

November. Gratitude is in the air. 

“Hi, sweetie,” Aunt May calls from the kitchen, “how was school?”

“It was okay,” he replies like an Ivan Pavlov study.

“And Spider-Man?”

“Shhhh!” Peter slides his sock-clad feet across the flooring and goes into the kitchen in a hurry. “The walls are thin!” He whisper-yells.

“So you think no ones seen your little butt climbing into your window?” May doesn’t change the level of her voice and smiles playfully, “Yeah right. Your butt’s huge.”

“No it’s not!” He gives up whispering and indignantly defends his rear.

“That spider bite really perked it up.”

“ _May~_ ” he’s not whining.

“Could you get me some? There’s this new intern-”

“Gross!”

“Whaaat? I just wanna show somethin’ off. It’s not even the intern, it’s her older brother.”

“I can’t believe you’re putting me through this.”

“Of course I’ll tell you more- can you hand me the pepper, babe.”

Peter groans but hands her the seasoning before he leans against the counter. Smells like tomato soup, but know Aunt May’s cooking can turn south in a blink of an eye.

“I think you should focus on your cooking,” Peter jabs innocently.

“Oh yeah? You’re the one that’s gonna be eating it, bub,” she smiles, pointing the dripping ladle at him.

“What about you?” Peter asks.

“Well if you would have let me finished then you’d know. I can’t help it if my nephew is a little turd,” she begins to ride out into a mocking rant to make him laugh, “I’m such an old lady, y’know, I can only remember things for so long. I’m trying my best, I truly am. But you? Ever since that spider bite, I don't know, your head blew up. You think you can get all the ladies because you do a few squats-”

“Alright, alright,” Peter chuckles, “sorry.”

“Thank you,” she kisses his forehead and goes back to adding chunks of tomatoes into the pot. “The intern and I have been pretty close since last month, she just moved to the city with her brother to be closer to family. Well, her brother is cute and she set us up for a date. Nothing big.” 

She adds the last part quickly, innocently sipping from the ladle. A date? Aunt May on a date?

“A- wait,” Peter gathers his words, “you have a date. _Tonight._ Have you guys been talking for a while? Have I met him before? Does he- is he nice? Are you meeting him there?”

“Peter, calm down, it’s just a date. We started talking last two weeks ago and this is the first time we ever talked about going on a date. I think he’s nice,” she turns to Peter with empathetic eyes. Now that he sees her, she is pretty dressed up. “I wouldn’t be interested in anyone unless they were nice, sweetie. You know that.”

Something lingering settles on them, an unspoken promise about what she deserves. After Uncle Ben died, she was so broken and sad, alone. It was too soon to find someone, she was still hurting, and found a trash boyfriend. Peter would never deny her love, he wouldn’t take it personally. She’s a wonderful, loving human being and if she wants to find someone to make her happy then he has no business making that difficult for her. But the man she chose was sought in the light of pain and grief. He hit her in front of Peter once and he couldn’t contain himself. It was before she knew about the spider bite, and the animalistic rage she saw from him that night scared her right back to her senses. No one was badly injured, a black eye and a broken arm, maybe some broken ribs-not as badly injured as Peter would have liked him to be.

“I know,” Peter responds.

The soup isn’t half bad. There’s a few floating black things, but he doesn’t mention them and eats it up happily. Aunt May is bustling about getting herself in order for her date, who _is_ in fact picking her up. Good. She buzzed him up and now he’s doing homework at the table in wait. She knows she could’ve met him at the security door, but Peter’s being transparent so she’ll let him meet the potential date first.

A knock at the door and Aunt May is smiling like a teenager. Peter can’t help but smile, too.

“Hi,” she greets with a large smile and turns to Peter. “My nephew wanted to meet you. He’s being a big watch dog. Act scared.”

Even if she whispers he can hear her, super hearing and all that. 

Peter freezes the moment they finally see each other.

“Mr. Lew!?”

“Peter?”


	4. Tony

This is amazement to the highest degree. Mr. Lew has been the nicest guy Aunt May has ever gone out with, and as much as he hates talking about boy-crush stuff, hearing his aunt gush on and on about him is rather sweet and refreshing to see. Honestly, and as terrible as it sounds, he thought May wasn’t all that capable of finding love again-not a love that she deserves. As astonishing as it seems, Mr. Lew and her make a rather lovely couple. He’ll come over with flowers and something small for Peter, they’ll play board games together while simultaneously grossing out the kid in the room with PG PDA, he’ll sometimes even take Peter to arcades with Ned. 

On numerous occasions, Mr. Lew had come over to just hang out with him-none of her exes did this-and he’d help out with his chores, take him shopping, go to the movies, or buy him and Ned LEGO sets. At this rate, Aunt May might not have anything to get him for Christmas _or_ his birthday. Admittedly, Peter accidentally walked into the kitchen a number of times to see his teacher standing in only his underwear, chugging water to save his life. In fact, Mr. Lew-after May leaves for work on the weekends-would shower with the door a jar. His one excuse has to be when he was having a sensory overload and put in his soundproof earplugs Mr. Stark made for him, otherwise he would have heard the running shower and not have walked in on his teacher...doing his personal business. Minus those awkward encounters, he really does think Mr. Lew is a wonderful thing to happen. It’s as if the more time he spends with May the more time he spends with Peter, and that’s how it should be. Why be invested in someone if you don’t take the time to know their bundle deal? 

During school, there’s no awkwardness or mentioning of their relationship, it’s strictly professionalism and Aunt May agrees. He’s bullied enough as it is and they don’t want it getting worse, plus the involvement into their personal lives would be too much right now. Peter knows that tactic, of May wanting to keep a relationship secret, it’s her way of saying “this isn’t serious enough for that” and for some reason that kind of bums him out a tad. Which is why tonight, he’s sitting on May’s bed before her date night.

“May...I have something to tell you,” Peter starts.

“What’s wrong?” She’s instantly by his side, she knows just as much as Peter that this will be the night he gives her Mr. Lew’s evaluation.

“Nothing,” Peter watches her relax, “I actually wanted to tell you that I think Mr. Lew is awesome.”

“Oh,” May perks up from her slouch and purses her lips in surprise, “if this is about the whole not telling the school thing, Peter, we can’t...”

“Yes and no. I get why you don’t want to say anything to the school and it probably is for the best, but I mean it. I think Mr. Lew is good for you.”

“Do you?” Her smile grows with each second.

Peter nods, smiling approvingly.

“He _is_ pretty awesome, isn’t he?” May gushes like a teenager and Peter can’t help but laugh as she tickles his side. She pulls him into a hug and kisses his temple. “Thank you, sweetheart. That really means a lot to me.”

“No problem.”

“Y’know what? You should come with us, it’ll be fun with all of us there.”

“But that’s intruding-”

“Jakub won’t mind! I’ll call him right now,” May says and pinches his cheek.

And just like that, he’s laughing at the dinner table with May and Mr. Lew. This feeling is like completion, like he could have a full family again. Tonight had to have been the best night he’s had in so long, and he’s never heard May laugh so freely and _so much_ until tonight. They saw a movie after dinner and Mr. Lew tried getting him in trouble with all the side poking and squeezing, he could hardly help the few chuckles. Afterwards, he brought them back to the apartment, everyone wishing the night could go on.

“Goodnight, May,” Mr. Lew leans in to deliver a quick kiss to May across the stick shift.

It’s like watching a movie with how fast they met and meshed so well together. Peter turns away and opens the car door.

“Peter,” Mr. Lew beckons while May gets out of the car. Peter leans back in, “Thanks for being a great kid. You’re a special one.”

Peter smiles, “Thanks for tonight, see you.”

Jakub Lewandowska has to be the most generous man Peter has ever met, hands down. He responds to Peter’s random thought texts- and yes, it’s weird having his teacher’s phone number and it’s gosh dang illegal but he’s his aunt’s boyfriend, and he told Peter to call if he were ever in trouble and May wasn’t around. He responds without fault, who cares if it’s only to tell him to go to bed.

“C’mon, pick up, pick up,” Peter repeats this small mantra but to no avail. Mr. Stark still isn’t picking up, same with Happy. 

He’s found a small group of men lingering from Vulture’s posse. They still have a decent number of weapons, but Mr. Stark made it very clear that those weapons are no joke and he should notify his mentor if more pop up on his radar. If only he’d answer the phone. Peter is severely outnumbered, by weaponry _and_ body count. He was only able to pick up the last of one of the guy’s sentences, they’re planning on breaking Vulture out! Mr. Stark is going to be so angry with him. He drops down from the tree and onto the sidewalk, startling the group of men. 

“Hey, guys,” Peter greets casually, “I think it’s passed your bedtime.”

“Aye, look who it is. Bug Boy,” a particularly muscular man mocks in a low drawl.

“It’s Spider-Man,” Peter corrects, “and those weapons don’t belong to you. They’re property of- woah!”

His attempt at a jumping evasion leaves him short as a beam of blue glowing waves holds him in the air. This is easily still on his list as one of the top coolest weapons _and_ moments. Using his web shooters, he slings a web at the man next to the glowy-blue-beam-shooter-gun and pulls him hard so he goes sailing into the other man. 

“That’s gonna hurt in the morning,” Peter comments, landing deftly in a low crouch.

“So is this, Web Head.”

It’s got to be the fastest weapon he’s encountered thus far, he’s barely able to turn around and see the giant orange ball barrelling toward him. It hits his back dead on and sends him flying across the street, close-lining his head against the traffic light.

If he were human, he’d be dead the moment the blast hit him, he’s lucky to recover with only a headache and a black eye. Getting up from the asphalt is dizzying and he sways for a bit and clutches his head.

“This _is_ gonna hurt in the morning,” Peter mumbles to the open air, looking around. “Great, they’re gone, too. Karen, what time is it? It’s so dark out.”

“It is currently 3:23 A.M.”

“What!? Oh no, May’s gonna kill me! Give me the fastest route home!”

“Routing. You should arrive in twenty minutes going on your current speed,” Karen informs.

“How ‘bout now?” Peter speeds up, buildings and lights whizzing by in streaks of blended colors.

“You should arrive in eleven minutes.”

“Okay. Any missed calls?”

“Twenty-seven missed calls and eight voicemails.”

“Holy crap! From May?”

“Twenty-one from May Parker, one from Ned Leeds, and four from Jakub Lewandowska.”

And none from Mr. Stark, typical. He does a double take, Peter almost didn’t recognize the name after calling him ‘Lew’ for so long.

“Any voicemails from May?”

“Playing voicemail…: “Peter Benjamin Parker! I swear to God when I see you-”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Man that was loud, he’s a little afraid to listen to the other ones. She sounds livid. “Play the next one.”

“Playing voicemail…: “Peter, Jakub came over. I called him because I don’t know what else to do. You won’t pick up, you won’t call back- I don’t know what you’re doing, but you better get your ass back home this instant!”...End of voicemail.”

“Jeez, okay, when was that sent?”

“Two hours and thirteen minutes ago.”

“I’m dead.”

He arrives home and is lucky enough to have stowed his change of clothes in his backpack on the roof of the apartment. When May found out his secret, she asked if this was the reason he lost so many backpacks. They agreed he could put his things on the roof because sometimes Mr. Lew was over and Peter couldn’t just walk out of his room like he'd been there the entire time. 

Quickly changing into his clothes he left to school in, he jumps down in the alley and runs to the entrance. Amid all his haste, he forgets the bruises until Aunt May is gasping in fear, hand covering her mouth.

“Peter!” She rushes to him, cupping his face in her hands to tilt him this way and that. “What happened? Are you alright? Where are they?”

“May, I’m fine!” Peter gives her a look that says it’s Spider-Man related and she lets go of him, crossing her arms and storming off with angry muttered words. “I’m sorry.”

Mr. Lew is able to see him for the first time and his eyes widen to disks, mouth dropping.

“Jesus! Peter, what the hell happened? Were you mugged?” Mr. Lew looks to Aunt May who’s wandered off to the kitchen to get an ice pack, but she’s angrily slamming things so he turns back to the kid.

“Um…” Peter isn’t sure what to say, if May would be able to keep up with him, but he has to say something, “Yeah, but I’m alright.”

Mr. Lew frowns, leaning closer to examine the particularly dark bruise across his forehead, “These don’t look like you’re alright. It looks like they hit you with a bat. _Christ_ , you could need stitches.”

“Does it look that bad?” Peter looks to May nervously, “It wasn’t a bat so don’t worry, it was...a...a, um…”

“No wonder you can’t remember, you probably have a concussion. May, let’s take him to his room, have him lie down. I should call the police. Hell, we should take him to the hospital!”

“No!” Both May and Period rush out, May continues, “He’s...been mugged before, this isn’t nearly as bad as the others. He’s a trooper, a real quick healer.”  
  


May intercepts Mr. Lew’s hand on his shoulder and leads Peter to his bedroom, her grip causing him to wince.

“He’s gonna be just _peachy_ ,” May says tightly.

“May, I’m so sorry. It all happened too fast and by the time I came to, it was already so late.”  
  


She leaves Peter on the bed, making him press the ice pack to his face with a pinched expression.

“You can’t keep saying that. I thought you were dead, Peter! What if it’s “too fast” again and you don’t come back!?” May yells, “You wouldn’t return any of my calls! I can’t keep doing this, Peter, it’s too much!”

“But I’m okay, I promise. I _did_ come back,” he reasons.

“What if you don’t one day, huh? What am I gonna do without you?” May muffles a cry with her hand and storms out the room, Mr. Lew calling for her.  
  


Karen already informed him of his severe concussion, but he can feel it getting better by the second as it’s nowhere near the dizzy mess he was before. With Mr. Lew here, however, he’s probably going to remain on bedrest until he’s buzzing to get out again. The longer he stays in bed, the further those guys get to busting Vulture out-he can’t let that happen.

“Peter?” Mr. Lew peeks his head into the room.

“You can come in,” Peter tells him.

Mr. Lew sighs, closing the door behind him, he starts, “I really think we should call the police. You should report these things.”

“You don’t have to worry about it, it’s fine,” Peter stresses. “Seriously, I can handle myself. Like May says, I’m a trooper.”

“Right…” Mr. Lew sits onto the bed and looks around Peter’s room in silence. “When I told you to call me when you need me, I meant that, Peter. Who cares if May says this happened before, it shouldn’t have happened at all. Did anyone...are you hurt in other places?”  
  


The question itself isn’t what confuses him but the tone that’s used with it. Mr. Lew sounds afraid of the answer, yet at the same time there’s some sort of anger he can’t identify underlying it. 

“My hand kind of hurts,” Peter admits, “I must’ve landed on it when I fell.”

“Is that the only place?”   
  


Again, there’s that weird tone he can’t place. Maybe his head’s more out of shape than he thought, because that question usually doesn’t make him uncomfortable. Not understanding the insinuation entirely, Peter offers another shake of his head. 

“Good,” Mr. Lew sighs in relief, “good...Well, get some rest, okay? Call me if you need anything.”

“Alright.” Not realizing it being there before, but Peter also feels the tension in his body relax. “Are you staying over?”

“Yep,” Mr. Lew smiles, “can’t really leave your aunt the way she is, can I? Plus, I got a hurt kid to keep my eye on.”  
  


The playful wink warms Peter’s chest, his earlier confusion melting away. They bid each other a good night and Mr. Lew shuts the door after turning the lights out. He’s just about to ask Karen where those guys might be when his phone glows with Tony Stark’s name. On instinct, he reaches for it when something sour pools in his stomach and his movement stops. Of all the times he wants to speak to Mr. Stark, he’s controlled himself and kept that fanboy impulse under control, but the _one_ time it’s serious, he doesn’t pick up. Both he and Happy never picked up before, when he was a small fighter and not Avengers worthy. Mr. Lew on the other hand, _always_ makes time for him, he always picks up even when he’s busy and tells him to call back later. Mr. Stark won’t even give him the decency of responding to his texts, days after he’s sent them. _Weeks!_ With a frown, Peter ends the incoming call and rolls over in his bed. When his concussion clears he might regret not telling Mr. Stark while he could, but for now he’ll stick to texts in the future and hope the guy takes the time to read them. A glowing, bright and beaming, emission of light shoots from his backpack and onto his wall with Tony Stark’s face. 

Karen’s voice cuts through the silence, “Peter, Tony Stark is attempting-”

“Ignore it,” Peter cuts her off.

“Are you sure that’s-”

“Yes. Tell him I don’t wanna talk.”  
  


Peter’s phone vibrates against his floor, Tony Stark’s name, once again, displayed. With a groan and pulsing headache making him unusually irritable, he snatches his phone off the floor, it’s charger popping out in its fast motion.

“Get the hint and stop calling, Tony!”

“I’m sorry- _What_?” his tone is dangerous, gearing towards another lecture and threat to take his suit away.

Mr. Lew hurries into the room, “Kiddo, are you alright? I heard you yell.”

“Oh, noth- I mean, I’m alright, Mr. Lew.” Peter tells him, Mr. Stark on the line yelling about how he can get his suit and fly down and put him in time out for infinity, “It’s no one.” With that, he hangs up.

“Are you sure? You seem upset.”

“It was just Tony,” Peter frowns again and looks down to the black screen. It’s disrespectful using his first name like this, Peter knows already, but it feels appropriate in the moment.

“A kid from school? Is he bullying you?” Mr. Lew’s concern causes Peter to laugh, the older man’s face looking playful. “What?”

“It’s not that big a deal. I intern for him...I dunno, I guess he just got irritating. He never answers my phone calls when I want him to and now he’s calling when my head hurts.”

“Are you pouting?” Mr. Lew laughs lightly, crossing the room and sitting on his bed. He squeezes right above Peter’s knee through the sheet and gets a burst of giggles as reward, Peter smiling and pushing Mr. Lew’s hand away none-too-seriously. “You mean Tony _Stark_ , don’t you? Hmm. Here, I’ll take your phone and put it in the other room. You should sleep in tomorrow.”  
  


Peter hands over his phone and settles into the bed; it’s already 4:26 A.M. and sleep is taking over. He feels Mr. Lew’s hands in his hair but can’t really tell him to stop, it feels too relaxing and comfortable. Soon enough, his eyes close and he’s knocked out.

“ _Tony_ , huh?” 


	5. Petey

“Happy Thanksgiving!” May cheers bursting into his room, “C’mon sleepy-butt, wake up!”  
  


As much as they love holidays, they’ve never had one like this. For a school holiday that lasts only two days, Mr. Lew- _Jakub,_ as he has been corrected to start calling him now-surprised them with a camping trip to Whispering Woods all the way upstate in Syracuse. The last time he was on a plane he was _actually_ on it fighting to save hundreds of people, this time he was able to relax this go round and enjoy the scenery. The cabin is beyond their price range but Mr. L- _Jakub_ is too generous and tells them not to think about it. There’s at least three other bedrooms that aren’t in use, Aunt May’s excitement is contagious as she tickles him relentlessly.

“I’m up! I’m up!” Peter squeals.

Today-in order to make the most of their short trip-they’re going to the lake to walk the pier, have a picnic, and watch the sunset. It’s a pretty packed day with all the things Jakub is eager to show them. He’s going to teach Peter how to fish later, too! May insists they be let go after, but Jakub says she won’t be complaining after he cooks them up real good, Peter couldn’t help but giggle at the thought. This is how his life was supposed to turn out, how it probably would’ve been if the spider never bit him, if Ben never died that horrific night...if he were to remain a nobody to the hero inside Iron Man. It’s been weeks since he’s heard from his mentor and since his mentor heard from him, Peter’s been successful in taking down Vulture’s henchman after calculating his strategies better. The weapons were taken by the police and what they did with them he isn’t sure, but they are at least in good hands now. Before he can linger on his distanced relationship with his hero, Jakub’s hand lands on his shoulder and starts a warm kneading motion as the man crouches beside him.

“I can’t believe you’re watching TV right now,” Jakub gawks, “when there is a _beautiful_ lake to get to!”

“Are we _finally_ going fishing?”

“Finally?”

“Yeah,” a mock-gross face expresses itself on Peter, “I had to take refuge from you and May making out on the porch- _yuck!_ Didn’t you guys do that enough during the picnic?”

“You snarky little thing,” Jakub laughs, kissing the top of Peter’s head. “I guess, I’ll just go fishing by myself then.”

Peter listens to him leave the room, the front door almost closed until-

“Wait!”  
  


Yeah, for a two day vacation, this is golden. Even if a common cold reared its ugly head for Peter, it’s sad that this trip has to come to an end, but Jakub says they can find time to come up here with just the two of them sometime and Peter can’t say no to that. In the spirit of that, May is off shopping for some memorable things to bring home and said the boys should go fishing one last time. With the speedboat gliding across the water, the lake breeze and warm sun on his skin, he’s never felt so at peace. The down side about this would be his occasional sea sickness, or the overall muscle lethargy, he gets while on the boat. He can recover fairly well, sickness-wise, which leaves his muscles a bit tired and having a cold doesn’t help. After telling May about how he feels, she said that muscle tiredness isn’t a symptom of sea-sickness but maybe something that has to do with his alter ego. The only thing he can figure is that he’s feeling a little uncomfortable in the open water with nowhere to jump and cling to if a villain were to find and attack him and Jakub. A small part of him welcomes the dampening of his super strength, some aspect of it feels almost forcibly relaxing.

They don’t sit in silence for very long like they had when it was all of them together, maybe because today is the last day and Jakub wants to make it more eventful. He scootches closer and teaches Peter how to tie an easier knot around the hook to also attach a heavier weight to it. Everything’s great until Jakub’s hand on his thigh starts moving slowly, tickling his skin in feather touches. Peter looks to him, but Jakub doesn’t seem any different and points to the line that’s now bobbing, the tip of the pole bowing. Not wanting to lose his potential catch, he tries to shake the feeling of the hand on his upper leg and reels in his dinner. A flinch, a jump, causes him to lose grip on the little reel and the wire unravels as the fish swims further away. Jakub’s hand had squeezed his thigh, too high for his comfort and personal space. 

“Why’d you let go? C’mon, keep going!” Jakub cheers, hand momentarily leaving his leg to put Peter’s hand back on the reel.  
  


The fish is closer this time when the hand is back again and is-please, God, correct him if he’s mistaken-kneading him slowly while moving higher, and higher, and-

“Got it!” Peter shouts, jumping up and grabbing the net.

“Nice one! Look at how big this sucker is!” Jakub is unphased by what he was just doing, unlike Peter who can’t look in his direction. “Let me take your picture. May’s gonna flip!”  
  


What else is there for him to do? He stands stiffly and holds up the fish with a-hopefully-cheerful smile. When Jakub halts his movement to bring his phone up, his eyebrows shoot up and he looks into Peter's eyes.

“Um, you have a bit of a problem down there, bub,” Jakub wastes no time with awkwardness.  
  


On the receiving end, Peter looks down and is mortified to see that he’s...he’s been _hormonal charged._

“Oh, God,” Peter groans and turns away from Jakub. “I’m sorry.” _Why is this happening to me?_

“Hey, it’s no big deal,” Jakub says gently, “happens to the best of us. Don’t be embarrassed.”

“But it _is_ embarrassing,” Peter whines. He’s got to put this damn fish down, first of all. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Here,” Jakub laughs fondly and strides over, not seeming to mind both the predicament or Peter’s reddening face, “gimme that and you have a seat. Calm down for a bit.”  
  


Thinking back on it, this probably wouldn’t have happened if Jakub kept his hands to himself. There’s no way he has feelings for his aunt’s boyfriend...but why is he so affected? He sits with his hands over his lap and shifts at the memory. Feeling a little bold, and wanting to have a reason for his embarrassment, Peter ventures to ask an uncomfortable question.

“Why did you…” the moment Jakub turns to look at him he freezes. How is he supposed to ask this? _Why was your hand on my leg? Do you like me?_ Does that sound weird? Of course it does!

“Why did I point it out?” Jakub guess the unfinished question, _wrongly_ , “because I wasn’t about to send your aunt a pic of you sporting a boner.”  
  


The casual laughter, the easy discussion of Peter’s humiliation is causing him more distress and more mortification. His spidey senses are dully tickling the back of his head as Jakub takes a seat next to him-too close for comfort. The hand is back and Peter can’t help the way he tenses.

“Stop that,” Peter is surprised by the accusation his tone takes on, and it seems like so is Jakub.

“I’m sorry,” he takes his hand away, looking hurt, “I thought you liked it when I did this. It’s only meant to be comforting.”

_The complete opposite._ “Why were you doing that...earlier? Like, squeezing.”

“You mean when you were reeling the fish in?” Peter nods. “I was excited is all. I promise, I didn’t mean anything by it. Well that’s a lie, I meant, my intentions were for them to be friendly and for comfort. I didn’t mean to make you aroused.”

  
Peter is silent, he isn’t sure where to go from this. He’s alone with the guy in the middle of the lake, no one around them, the shore looks so small from here, and he’s got no cellphone-he forgot it on the kitchen counter. Each and every time Jakub says “arousal” or something similar, his face heats up but his body doesn’t seem to find the word unappealing. Everything about this doesn’t feel right, though, but his spidey senses aren’t buzzing like crazy they’re simply present but in a way that happens with his normal uneasiness and fear. Like when he’s being called on in class, his spidey senses give him a start but there’s no real danger.

“Wait,” Jakub launches him out of his thoughts, “is that why you got hard?”  
  


The blunt question makes Peter queasy, and so freaking uncomfortable.

“This is- this is inappropriate.”

“No it isn’t,” he laughs, loud and not in a way Peter’s heard before. “What’s inappropriate about two dudes talking about what we both already know?”

“Because you’re my teacher.”

“Not right now, at least not for AP English. Currently, I’m the guy dating your aunt,” he says, as if to mean they’re way past appropriate. “Besides, it was a friendly touch, like I said. It’s fine. See?”

As if to prove some unreasonable point, Jakub goes to put his hand on Peter’s knee but he shifts it out of the way before he can. 

“Are you jealous?”

The question has Peter’s head snapping up with whiplash, “What?”

“Jealous,” Jakub repeats in a leveled tone, “I’m asking if you are. I know I spend a lot of time with May, but I spend equally- if not _more_ quality time with you. Are you jealous because I’m not giving you even more?”

“What!?” Peter can’t understand what’s happening, where this is going, “I would never think that- I mean, I don’t- do _not_ have a crush on you. I’m straight. I’m just saying that what you were doing earlier- I- it was inappropriate because it- it was just weird, okay?”

“Are you saying that if I wasn’t your teacher it wouldn’t be inappropriate?”

The questions, the situation, his anxiety-it’s all making his head swim with jumbled up words and nothing makes sense. “No! That’s not what I said at all.” How can he be so off?

“Peter, calm down, alright?” Jakub places that dang hand back on his thigh, closer to the knee this time, and peers down, “It’s okay to like who you like.” He squeezes, sending shivers up Peter’s spine.

“I’m not a kid, I know this is wrong,” Peter tries to move further away but his back is already against the boat’s side. He’s getting goosebumps.

“Says the 15 year old,” Jakub’s tone is shifting, but his senses are still telling him everything is fine. “You _are_ a kid, and it’s okay not to know about a lot of things. Sometimes, we automatically have the tendency to label things as “wrong” simply because they’re new. Same with fear. My closeness with you is because you’re a great kid, _special_ , and I think what we all have going here is pretty amazing...Look, Peter, it’s a natural reaction the body has to arousing, repeating, or favorable stimuli. I would _never_ do anything you wouldn’t want me to do. I just- I just thought that you were interested in me. Your reaction is so…well you know.” Jakub gestures to Peter’s hands that are covering his crotch and smirks.

“Stop looking at it,” Peter demands while trying to turn but Jakub is righting him with a firm grip on his leg so he can’t move.   
  


Why can’t he fight this man’s grip? Where has his super strength gone? Is he not strong anymore? His spidey senses aren’t going off, could this all be in his head? May’s often told him his doctors once said he’s got a psychosomatic disorder-overthinking. There’s no way he could overthink his powers away…could he? If he didn’t have this dang cold he could stop Jakub, think more clearly and say what he wants without this incessant delirium he gets every time he's on this freaking boat.

“Is my staring making it harder?” There’s no judgment, no mockery, Jakub sounds like he does when talking to his class.   
  


Yes, it _is_ , and he doesn’t understand why so he can’t reveal that piece of information. The entire explanation had him uncomfortably growing and the movement of pressure from his hands isn’t helping him forget his current problem. It reminds him of when his aunt explained sex and he felt a little odd below, but he was able to finish that conversation without having any problems like now.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jabuk chuckles. “Listen to me, Peter, it’s okay if you feel this way. It’s natural. If you want, I can tell you how to make it go away-not only faster, but _better_.” His hand squeezes Peter’s thigh causing him his flinch and shudder. “You’re so young, you probably don’t know all the ways you can feel good. Ways that make you tremble uncontrollably.”

_This is wrong. This is bad. Why aren’t my powers working!?_ “Please, stop.”

Peter clenches his eyes shut, his body tensing but hands never leaving his crotch. It’s his last ditch effort in protecting himself. All at once, his mind and body begin to freeze and move in slow motion. He’s...he’s afraid.

“When have I given you a reason not to trust me? You clearly want this, Peter. Look down! The proof’s in the pudding-or in this case, your pants. Hahaha, it’s not hard to misconstrue as a green light, bub. Your body is telling you what you want. It isn’t fighting me, it’s _reacting_ and reacting well, quickly. Right? We always get in the way of ourselves, you know that? Our minds override out of fear. If that weren’t the case, we’d be unstoppable as humans. Never fearing a thing.”  
  


The statements he’s confident about regarding his body wanting this, is making his stomach twist in knots. Why _doesn’t_ his senses tell him this is wrong? The level of danger emanating from Jakub should certainly be enough for his spidey senses to push through, yet they don’t. They remain blunted, a quiet and distant lull at the back of his head. It’s because this is _Jakub_ and he’s been nothing but generous, kind, wonderful, and so very patient in all areas of his life. In just these short moments with Jakub, Peter feels the sense of family and often catches himself when talking to Ned. He couldn’t say “Jakub’s taking us on a family getaway”, that would be weird because they _weren’t_ family and this man in this boat with him is still a stranger. A stranger who he feels no malice towards. That doesn’t mean that he _wants_ this, though, he’s still consciously stating his objections. Although Jakub is so confident in his encouragement that this is indeed what Peter needs and wants.

“B-But I don’t want to. I-I really _am_ scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared. I’ll go slow. I’ll make sure you’re comfortable the entire way. I got you.”

“N-No. Please, stop.”

“Shh, shh, let your body do the talking. You’re doing great so far, bub.”  


Jakub places his hand over both of Peter’s without hesitation and pushes firmly against him. How much larger this man is compared to Peter, never registered until now, this man can easily overpower him in his weakened, feverish state. And he does. Using his strength, Jakub pries Peter’s hands away from his crotch and moves them aside. Before Peter can hide again, a hand rubs against his private area with rough friction, causing him to feel all the movement. Instantly, his hands wrap around Jakub’s thick wrist and tugs.

“No,” Peter begs, “ _please,_ listen to me.”

“I am.”  
  


A gasp leaves Peter’s panting mouth, tears dripping down his cheeks. Warm and calloused, Jakub’s hand dips down past the elastic band into his shorts to wrap around him and squeezes with each tug. Peter grabs at his arm to pull it up, out and away but it’s like he’s as weak as he used to be before the bite. Or maybe it’s because he doesn’t want Jakub to stop, because he _does_ want this to happen. _Please, God, make him stop_. He fights, he fights against Jakub and shoves his shoulders and chest away-still, his blood is going south and what he feels there is frighteningly strong.

“That’s it. C’mon, give in to the pleasure,” Jakub whispers into his ear- _when had he gotten so close?_ “Look at you! Awwhaha, you’re _shaking_.”  
  


Peter hiccups as his head flies back and mouth opens wide. He covers his mouth with one hand, never letting go of Jakub with the other.

“I knew you wanted it, look at how much you came for me. Look at that. Look at it, Peter.”

  
And he does. Peter looks down where Jakub is tugging his shorts toward himself to open the teen to the cold air. He’s a sloppy mess and he feels disgusting. 

“Why are you crying?” Jakub sounds concerned but Peter’s having none of it. “Didn’t it feel good? We were just having fun, and you were such a good boy. Stop crying, okay? All done.”  
  


Peter nods, wiping his tears away and trying not to move his legs too much. He's right, it’s all done. Over with and done. It happened. It happened. His teacher touched him. They talked about this in school, how it was a no-no except everyone already knew that. Minus this one freshman at a school nearby. Apparently she was failing chemistry and offered her body to make it up. Jakub could have done worse, he could’ve used Peter’s body but he didn’t. This wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t so bad. He’s fine now, it’s over and done. All done. 

Peter nods again, more to himself this time and looks meekly to Jakub-who still hasn’t moved, “I don’t feel good. Wanna see May.”

“Is it your cold?” Jakub reaches out to hold his shoulder but a violent flinch sends Peter into a panic.

“No! Get off me!”

“Hey, calm down, son,” Jakub holds his hands up, “What’s this about?”

“What’s this-? You- you- I said _stop_ but you still did it!”

“I was only doing what you were telling me to.”   
  


How can he have the audacity to look offended?

“I didn’t make you do anything!”

“You were getting harder every time I so much as _looked_ your way, kid! I did you a favor and got rid of it for you. You _should_ be saying thank you. Quit acting like it didn’t feel good. You came, didn’t you? Try telling me it didn’t feel good. You came so hard, Peter.”  
  


Peter opens his mouth but nothing comes out, his adrenaline dissipating to fear and disgust.

“I knew it. You aren’t even thinking about what _I_ must be feeling. How is _May_ going to react to this?”  
  


Peter isn’t. He made his teacher touch him because he couldn’t control his stupid teen body. His teacher wasn’t the one who was aroused, it was _him_ , he’s the only one in this boat with a mess in their pants. It’s wrong, he feels dirty, but he sneaks a glance down to Jakub’s crotch and sees that the man’s not close to being hard. This makes him cry again, worse.

“I’m sorry. Oh my gosh, I didn’t mean- I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t stop it,” the young boy pleads but Jakub’s gotten up and sat himself down at the wheel. He’s turning the boat around. _Oh, God, is he going to tell May on him? He looks so angry._ “I said I’m sorry! _Jakub!_ I promise I won’t tell anyone, it can be our secret! Mr. Lew, don’t _ignore_ me! I said sorry! What more do you want?”

“Just a second ago you thought _I_ was the one at fault. If I was, were you going to forgive me? _Pfft_ yeah right.” He won’t even look at Peter anymore, he must know how disgusting he is too.

“I said I’m sorry. Stop being mad at me. I won’t tell anyone, I promise! Stop being mad!”  
  


The silence is long, excruciating, and Peter can only cry and whimper. His shorts are making him itchy and cold, now, and he’s not sure how he's going to walk normally into the cabin like this.

“Okay,” Jakub sighs. “Calm down.”

“Please don’t tell anyone, Jakub,” Peter cries, “please don’t tell May. Keep it a secret.”  
  


Jakub, sighs and takes a seat facing Peter with a sympathetic smile. Opening his arms, he gestures for Peter to come closer. He can’t ruin this for May, the one amazing vacation she’s ever had in years, he can’t do that to her. Slowly, cautiously, Peter lays himself against Jakub’s chest and wills himself to relax.

“I couldn’t stay mad at you,” he smiles, kissing Peter on the head, “you’re my favorite student.”

“I am?” Peter tries for a small smile, still feeling icky inside.

“Yes! You’re smart and kind hearted, you’d do anything for the people you care about. We need people like you to lead this country.”

“Oh,” the compliments, the gentle voice- it all makes Peter calm down because _this_ is the Jakub he knows and has grown to love. He smiles for real this time and tries to forget what he made his father-figure do, “Thank you!”

“No problem, Petey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, I just realized that it’s snowing during November in New York...They would not be having a glowy time at the lake lol. I’m from the desert and we don’t have seasons here haha it’s just hot year round. The whole Thanksgiving break fits well with the story, though. I could push it until August, but that’s Peter’s birthday and I wanted him to be 15 in this story. I’m going to keep it for now and figure it out possibly somewhere down the line. If I fix this, it’ll disrupt the rest of the story- ughhhh!
> 
> P.S.  
> Ethyl Chloride is available over the counter to treat minor sports injuries and deep muscle pain. It instantaneously creates a significant temperature drop on the skin’s surface, this produces a temporary anesthetic effect. For Spider-Man, it sucks.


	6. Interlude

# Interlude

**Grooming** , in _both_ adults and children, is when an individual or individuals builds an emotional connection, a relationship, and trust with someone with the purposes of manipulating, exploiting and abusing them. Children and young people who are groomed can be sexually abused, exploited or trafficked quite easily in this light. _Anybody can be a groomer_ , no matter their age, gender or race. It may be online or face-to-face, by a stranger or by someone they know-family members, friends or professionals.

The preceding paragraphs will focus on the relationships between an older Groomer with a younger, underaged person.

A _Few Examples_ of Grooming Behaviour

  * Giving gifts or special attention to the young person, or to their parent or guardian, making the young person feel special and/or indebted to the adult.
  * Turning close physical contact sexual- such as: inappropriate tickling and wrestling/play fighting
  * Openly or pretending to accidentally expose the victim to nudity, sexual material and sexual acts (this in itself is classified as child sexual abuse but can also be a precursor to physical sexual assault)
  * Controlling the young person through threats, force or use of authority making the young person fearful to report unwanted behaviour.



Stages

Stage 1: Targeting the victim

How the offender targets a victim is by measuring the child's vulnerability—emotional neediness, isolation and lower self-confidence. Children with less parental oversight are more desirable prey.

Stage 2: Gaining the victim's trust

The sex offender gains trust by watching and gathering information about the child, getting to know his needs and how to fill them. In this regard, sex offenders mix effortlessly with responsible caretakers because they generate warm and calibrated attention. More awkward and overly personal attention, or a gooey intrusiveness, is one of the only things that provokes the suspicion of parents. Therefore, a more charming and debonair sex offender is better disciplined for how to push and poke, without revealing themselves. Think of the grooming sex offender on the prowl as akin to a spy—and just as stealth.

Stage 3: Filling a need

Once the sex offender begins to fill the child's needs, that adult may assume noticeably more importance in the child's life and may become idealized. Gifts, extra attention, affection may distinguish one adult in particular and should raise concern and greater vigilance to be accountable for said adult.

Stage 4: Isolating the child

The grooming sex offender uses the developing special relationship with the child to create situations in which they are alone together. This isolation further reinforces a special connection. Babysitting, tutoring, coaching and special trips all enable this isolation.

A special relationship can be even more reinforced when an offender cultivates a sense in the child that he is loved or appreciated in a way that others, not even parents, provide. Parents may unwittingly feed into this through their own appreciation for the unique relationship.

Stage 5: Sexualizing the relationship

At a stage of sufficient emotional dependence and trust, the offender progressively sexualizes the relationship. Desensitization occurs through talking, pictures, even creating situations (like going swimming) in which both offender and victim are naked. It is at this point, the adult exploits a child's natural curiosity, using feelings of stimulation to advance the sexuality of the relationship.

When teaching a child, the grooming sex offender has the opportunity to shape the child's sexual preferences and can manipulate what a child finds exciting and extend the relationship in this way. The child comes to see himself as a more sexual being and to define the relationship with the offender in more sexual and special terms.

Stage 6: Maintaining control

Once the sex abuse is occurring, offenders commonly use secrecy and blame to maintain the child's continued participation and silence—particularly because the sexual activity may cause the child to withdraw from the stressing relationship.

  
Children in these entangled relationships—and at this point they _are_ entangled—confront threats to blame them, to end the relationship and to end the emotional and material needs they associate with the relationship, whether it be the dirt bikes the child gets to ride, the coaching one receives, special outings or other gifts. The child may feel that the loss of the relationship and the consequences of exposing it will humiliate and render them even more unwanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are legitimate findings from an Oprah article.
> 
> I hope you are enjoying the story thus far. Comment what you think 💭 🤍


	7. Ned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate your thoughts and comments, thank you for reading this far. ☺️

“What’s up, man?” Peter smiles at his friend near his locker.

“Hey, man,” Ned avoids Peter’s offered handshake. _That’s odd._ “You good?” 

Ned looks to him unwaveringly and he has to shake off the shame bubbling in his chest. It isn’t his fault, but he can’t be doing this right now, not here when he’s got lunch to deal with. _Put on a smile, Peter._

“I’m great!” Maybe that was too much enthusiasm.

“Uhh...Right. Peter, you suck at lying,” Ned deadpans.

“I’m not lying, I’m just- it involves...Spider-Man.”

“Ahhhh, I gotcha,” Ned smirks, huddling in closer, “Stark got you that secret mission?”

“Um, well...yeah,” Peter shrugs. _Sure, that’s plausible- if I wasn’t currently ignoring him._ “So you can’t tell anyone, alright? And you definitely can’t treat me any different.”

“Got it- wait,” Ned’s eyebrows rise with suspicion, “are you on the mission right _now_?”

_Ned’s mind is the best, seriously he’s brilliant!_ “Yes!” Getting quiet again, he huddles a little closer. “I’m gonna be late to lunch because I have...to scout out this one location. But it’ll be super quick, hopefully, so don’t worry!”

“Awesome!”

“Are you nerds gonna kiss now or what?” There’s snickering around them and Peter looks over to see Flash with the friends he probably pays for. “Oh, don’t stop on my account.”

“Hey, Flash,” Peter greets solemnly.

“I’ll see you later,” Ned ignores Flash and goes to leave.

Flash scoffs, following Ned into the cafeteria with a final “Penis Parker” shout down the hall. Anything to remind him of how miserable he should be, and the name usually doesn’t bother him but it’s sure as hell starting to.

Today marks the second week of December, 12 days since the boat mishap, and the fourth time he’s allowed Mr. Lew to touch him-two of those being this week. Last Thursday, the 5th, May was working late and Mr. Lew agreed to watch him, it would mark the first time they’ve been alone since the boat. What makes these events worse is how vividly he remembers them days later. It gets worse at night as he lays in bed trying to make distinctions between the demons in his head and the shadows looming over him. Closing his eyes is never useful, it makes recalling the events more personal, more realistic. Thursday the 5th, he recalls too well:

“We should talk,” Mr. Lew sighs, setting Peter’s dinner plate in front of him. “About what happened.”

“There’s nothing to talk about…” Peter shoves a fork in his spaghetti, cutting it up with its edge until they’re small pieces.

“This isn’t easy for me, either, you know,” Mr. Lew’s fork hits the ceramic plate with a loud _klank!_ startling Peter. “I’m the one who has to look my girlfriend in the eyes and not feel the shame of having cheated on her.”

Peter timidly glances at the angry man but says nothing.

“If you haven’t had let me do that, maybe we both wouldn’t feel this way.”

His words are met with more silence. Mr. Lew scoffs, stabbing his fork deep into his spaghetti, making the fork _screech_ against the ceramic that grates at Peter’s senses.

“You don’t feel an ounce of shame, do you?” Mr. Lew shakes his head. “You still want it. I can’t believe you.”

“No...I don’t,” Peter declares rather weakly. 

“Convince me then.” Mr. Lew gets up from his chair and grabs a fistful of Peter’s hair, dragging him onto the kitchen floor.

_What’s happening? Mr. Lew can’t do it again, he can’t!_

“Stop it!” Peter shoves Mr. Lew off his chest and rolls over to make a dash.

A hand yanks his ankle and he falls, catching himself on his hands, and is weighed down by a body on top of his. “Quit fighting what you want, Petey. Let it happen.”

“No! Get off me! Get off!”

“You’re gonna hurt me! Calm the fuck down!” Mr. Lew yells in a voice Peter’s never heard from the man before.   
  


He doesn’t have time to categorize it before fists collide with his back, each one freezing him with terror and pain. There’s a brief moment his fear turns to nothingness, two seconds of petrifying fear, and then he’s back in the moment feeling every hit. When it’s all done, Mr. Lew is crying with Peter’s shirt clenched in fists. He doesn’t dare move, not with his mind racing about where Mr. Lew’s state of mind could be. 

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Lew sobs, “I’m sorry. You made me do this, you made me hurt you. So bad! You were so bad. I had to hit you, Peter, you made me!” In a snap, he’s furious and flips Peter onto his back. “I love you.”

Peter can’t breathe.

“I love you so much.”

He can’t breathe.

“Let me make it better.”

Moist lips against his is unexpected, but he can’t move or fight. He’s limp and shivery. 

“I’ll make you feel so much better.”

The same moist lips, wander lower and lower.   
  


He can’t breathe. Not until he he’s forced to gasp and shudder.

That was Thursday, December 5th. Today is Friday the 11th. December 7th was like December 5th, when Mr. Lew said he was feeling so very, very sad and that only Peter could make him feel better. December 7th, Tuesday, he felt more shame than any of the other times- more than November 29th, more than December 5th. Tuesday, he offered himself willingly, let Mr. Lew hold his wrists against his desk, he let Mr. Lew open his mouth and take what he wanted simply because he said he was sad. Right there, in his homeroom class during lunch, he let Mr. Lew get him off and the more he told himself it was okay, the better it felt and the better _he_ felt. 

Today, December 11th, he walks back into his homeroom class because Mr. Lew said he’s sad. If he doesn’t have Peter to help this sadness, Mr. Lew will have no choice but to tell Aunt May of his heartache. That’s what they won’t be doing.

Ned

Lunch is ten minutes from being over and Peter still isn’t back. Spider-Man can handle himself, _Peter_ can hold his own too, but a promise is a promise and Peter never breaks those. He and Mr. Lew are close, so maybe he dropped by there to say hey. He can’t take Flash on all by himself, he doesn’t have his hat for this. 

Ned walks down the empty hall with the echoing sounds of the cafeteria getting quieter behind him. What he sees in Peter’s homeroom haunts him, it will probably always haunt his memory, his image of the pure, humble person he knows will have a smudge. He and Peter exchange shocked stares before Ned shuts the door and takes off down the hall. That wasn’t real. He needs to find someone, this is not okay!

Peter

“Ned!” Peter gets off his knees to run after his friend when Mr. Lew grabs his wrist. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he hurriedly tugs on Mr. Lew’s grip.

“You better handle this, and be back to finish before the bell,” Mr. Lew growls.

“Okay, okay, please let me go. I gotta stop him!”

Mr. Lew let’s him go and Peter launches himself at the door. “Ned!” Peter calls as he runs down the hall. “Ned!” He spots his friend by the stairwell, looking mighty close to a breakdown.

“It isn’t what it looks like,” Peter tries.

“ _This_ is your “mission”?” Ned looks bewildered, eyes wide. “Peter, what the hell was that? What are you _doing?_ ”

“It...it isn’t- it isn’t what you think.”

“I swear to God, Peter, you can’t be doing this. You have a scholarship, a reputation. He’s your _teacher!_ ”

“Shhh! Quiet down! I _know_ okay! Don’t you think I know that?” Peter looks around them, letting a sigh tumble past his lips and looks to Ned seriously. 

“Then why?”

“Ned…”

“I thought you and MJ were getting closer.”

“Mr. Lew and I, we’re not together,” Peter clarifies, horrified, “Ned...I-I’m sorry.”

“Peter, what’s going on?”  
  


He can feel himself trembling, the mere thought of having to explain this causing him to cramp and shift on his feet. If he doesn’t tell Ned, he _will_ tell someone what he saw and Peter’s sure of it. Ned’s a good person, he has weak will but a strong hold on his loyalty to friendship and family. 

“Over thanksgiving break...remember how I couldn’t help build the Millennium Falcon because I was going to Syracuse?”

“Yeah.”

“Jakub...Mr. Lew, he...I...we did stuff.”

Silence.

“The same stuff I saw in the classroom?” Ned asks calmly.

“N-No. He- he t-touched me while we were fishing on the boat. I swear I had no other choice. I couldn’t get out and I was sick and there was water everywhere and he was really strong and I tried to say no but it was- he was- he-”

“Peter! Peter, take a breath. Did you tell May?”

“No! I can’t. _You_ can’t! This is the first guy she’s ever been with who treats her like she deserves.”

“But he treats you like…”

“Like what?” Peter says defensively.

“Peter…” Ned sighs, “this is illegal. It’s _wrong._ You have to tell _someone_.”

“I told _you_.”

“Someone who knows how to handle this,” Ned clarifies.

“I can’t, Ned. _I_ instigated him.”

“He’s an adult. None of this could be your fault, Peter, I know you. Sounds like he’s manipulating you. ”

“He’s a good person, Ned,” Peter glares, “he’s just not being himself lately. I don’t know what to do.”

“Tell someone. You’re Spider-Man,” Ned says with a smile that doesn’t reach his scared eyes.

“Yeah...don’t remind me,” Peter hates knowing he’s Spider-Man. How could anyone think of him as a hero now? Ned is misled.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I’m your best friend and I can’t stand seeing you like this. I definitely can’t keep letting him do this to you.”

“Ned don’t! No one’s gonna believe me. We’re just _kids_.”

“But, Peter-”

“No! If you’re my friend you’d listen to me.”

“You said Mr. Lew was your friend, did he listen to you?”

Peter reels back at that, eyes darkening.

“If you tell anyone, I’m sorry, but we can’t be friends.” He walks away, walks straight to the classroom and closes the door with a soft click.  
  


Ned watches him, guilt heavy in his chest. Peter is going to hate him, he can deal with that. What he can’t deal with not doing anything for his friend while knowing he’s being raped by his teacher. He’ll tip off May one way or another.


	8. May

The moment Ned found out Peter had really thought his life was over, everything he tried so hard to keep secret crumbling apart. His relationship with Aunt May is as great as it’s always been, perhaps more strenuous in his ability to mask-the sweating, the stuttering, the tension in his gut and shoulders at the mere mention of Jakub Lewandowska. Otherwise, his ability to lie is getting better. His- _ relationship? _ -stance with Mr. Lew is on the fritz. Albeit brief as it were, there was a time his teacher grew visibly angry at the lost informality they used to have before all this began. Peter can’t bring himself to call Mr. Lew by his first name anymore, it doesn’t feel right anymore. In result, he’s received an assortment of gifts that he hid from May long enough to toss in the dumpsters an alley two blocks away from theirs. He doesn’t need the chocolates, doesn’t want the video games, new computer, gaming headset, or skateboard. Why would he use those things? They’d only fuel his remembrance of  _ him _ and of this whole  _ thing _ he can’t stand.

Ned. God, his stomach aches at the memory of calling Ned a no good friend just for wanting to stick up for him. There’s no doubt in his mind that telling someone would be the right thing to do, it’s stuck in the back of his mind the moment Mr. Lew so much as smiles at him. Thoughts of his smile is enough to make him nauseous now. One thing holding him back is the irreversible shame in having to admit he had performed sexual favors for the sake of keeping his teacher happy, so that he wouldn’t tell anyone about how he got a boner on the boat the forever days ago that still feels like yesterday on his skin. How could he say those things to someone? Talking about sexual activities is the crutch of his teen youth. No one wants to talk about it and most of all, no one would believe him. Of course he’s got Ned now, but he only saw Peter giving Mr. Lew a...favor, he wouldn’t believe  _ the  _ Spider-Man allowed another man to touch him all the while staying compliant and compromising. If there can only be one person who is affected by this, he’ll gladly let it be him and save the others from ever having to know this burden.

“Are you not going to eat that?” Ned asks. He’s sitting on Peter’s bed and eating a slice of the pizza May ordered.

Peter shrugs and continues scribbling his answers for this mock test Ned made for him to study for the math final coming up. “Not really that hungry.” Also, Mr. Lew is here and his appetite is the last thing on his mind. 

“But don’t you have...a fast metabolism?” He whispers the last bit.

“Skipping one meal isn’t gonna kill me,” I say offhandedly.

“You told me that because of...you’re secret thing, that when you don’t eat your tummy hurts real bad.”

“I  _ did _ not use the word “tummy”, Ned,” maybe he did. “Besides, I’m trying to focus here. You made this harder than it’s probably gonna be.”

“Mrs. Washington holds nothing back, you know that,” Ned says around a particularly large bite.

Peter groans because he knows Ned’s right, saying, “I know. This problem though, number 15, I was having a hard time focusing that day...”

Talking to Ned has always been effortless and could be done without having to think about offending the other because they know they never could. They haven’t spoken about what happened December 11th, and Peter didn’t mean to bring up anything remotely close with how he’s coping. Not while Mr. Lew was just outside his bedroom. He can hear him and May laugh every so often.

“When do you think it’ll stop?”

It isn’t a question he figured Ned would ask and he shoots his friend a look.  _ When does he want it to stop? _ The question makes him wonder if it will ever stop, if Mr. Lew would get bored and leave him and May so he can deal with his shame alone forever. When does he want it to stop? It should’ve stopped the second the word left his lips on that damn boat.

“Ned, that’s mean,” Peter says quietly, not at all with anger or accusation.

“I’m not being mean, Peter,” Ned’s tone matches his.

“I know…” so he thinks, thinks about if he should lie or let Ned in closer to what’s going on beyond the veil-he takes a shot in the dark. “I don’t know if it’ll ever stop.”

“Pe-” Ned furrows his eyebrows in worry, blinking away moisture in his eyes. “That wasn’t the question.”

Sighing, Peter gives up and says, “Fine. I wish it’d stop right now.”

“Then tell May.”

“No!” Peter looks to the door and sighs.

“Then don’t make me sit here and let you do this to yourself! It’s killing me, Peter! I want to help you but you're so s _ tubborn _ .”

“I’m not stubborn, Ned, I’m careful,” Peter scowls. “If anyone else finds out-May, Mr. Stark, the  _ school _ -I’m good as dead, don’t you see that? Why can’t you see that? I’m trying to find another way around this, that way no one’s reputations get flushed down the drain.”

“At what cost, dude? This is obviously hurting you. How much more can you take before you find this “better” way that gives  _ you  _ justice and him what he deserves?”

“I can take it for as long as I need to, don’t think that I’m not strong enough.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what  _ are  _ you saying? I’m so sick of this, Ned, this is exactly why I couldn’t come to you in the first place. You’re giving lecture after lecture, but don’t you realize I know all this already? Just leave me alone! It isn’t even that bad.”

“This is what I’m talking about, the old you wouldn’t blow up over me caring and worrying over you. You don’t see it now so let you tell you, you’re different, Peter. You’re always mad at people, you get defensive easily, you won’t talk to me anymore outside of school, MJ thinks you’re being a jerk to her, and even your aunt isn’t a good enough reason to get help.”  
  


Bringing the argument to a hushed tone, Peter says, “Don’t bring May into this, you don’t know anything. Your family is perfect! Gotch’yer mom and dad’s money to get you all the things you ever could want. Sometimes I get jealous when I go on vacations with you, I hate seeing how wonderful you all are. So don’t you bring May into this like you understand what this is like.”

“I might not know how it feels, but I at least know she deserves to know who she’s in love with. How can you keep this from her when she’s dating a monster?”

“He isn’t a monster, Ned! I told you already, it isn’t that bad!”

“What if it gets bad!?

“I want you to leave.”

“Fine. Give me my test back.”

“That’s childish,” Peter seethes, he needs this test to study.

“I don’t care,” Ned reaches his open palm out and Peter reluctantly gives it up.

This wasn’t the first time Peter’s kicked him out, in fact that’s how Ned’s been leaving most days. When he said his friend has changed, he wasn’t joking. Some days he hardly recognizes him, other days he wishes the Peter he cares so much about didn’t let that man taint him. On his way out of the apartment he hesitates near May’s purse on the counter. Peter might end up hating him, but that’ll either happen because Mr. Lew is brainwashing him or because Peter’s lost-both of those options don’t sound good but he can at least try to stop them from happening. Quickly grabbing the note he compiled beforehand knowing this would happen, he shoves the now folded paper in the purse and walks out the door. Peter can hate him, that’s fine, but Peter  _ can’t  _ lose what’s left of him.  
  


It won’t be until the weekend that May finds the vague note, typed and anonymous, about the nature of  _ Peter _ and  _ Jakub’s _ relationship. It was an accident as she was digging through her purse pockets for that dang chapstick tube and nearly got a papercut on the sharp edges. It’s a freak coincidence that she even brought this purse to work today, usually she brings her other one that’s much smaller and suitable for work, but she was on a date and forgot to transfer the contents into her other bag. It’s going to be a long shift, she should take her lunch peacefully, not wide eyed and a stuttering breath. This isn’t true. Did someone leave this just now? Did Peter write this? 

“Oh God,” May covers her mouth, tears in her eyes.   
  


Nothing is graphic, nothing is in detail-it’s the mere  _ implication _ and wild thoughts that have her near tears.

_ Jakub Lewandowska is not that man you think he is. He is a monster of the worst kind and he is poisoning you and your nephew. I urge you to look into the nature of Peter and Jakub’s relationship. I’m sorry no one told you sooner. It’s an entangling web of lies.  
  
_

Immediately she goes to the new front desk intern and friend, Susanne Lewandowska.

May skips the preamble and gets straight to it, “Did you leave me a note?”

“Huh?” Susanne tilts her head, looking up from her paperwork.

“A note in my purse, did you put it there?” May asks again.

“May, are you okay?” Susanne asks.

“I’m fine,” May says walking off.  
  


Susanne didn’t know what she was talking about, she couldn’t have left it. Thinking about calling Jakub makes her stomach uneasy, and there’s no way she can bring this up without risking Peter. She might know what this letter means exactly, but she works in the emergency room and has seen enough suffering to know this note means danger. Danger between her fifteen-year-old nephew and his teacher. 

“Oh God, Oh God, Oh God,” May brushes her hair behind her ear and leans against the wall.

“Parker, we need you.”

She doesn’t care he says it, she straightens up and shoves the note in her back pocket and with a professional stride she gets back to work. Her maternal instincts are going haywire and she can barely get by work without thinking about Peter. Thank the Lord Jakub isn’t there right now or she’d have a conniption. Between patients, May types and retypes the same text message to Tony but she just can’t find the written words. She doesn’t know what’s happening, for all she knows she can be over exaggerating. It’s been a long night and a bus load of critical patients came in from a crash. 

Tomorrow is Saturday, she’ll call out because her nephew shouldn't be alone two nights in a row-not while there’s something going on. After work she was so antsy to get home that she nearly left without telling anyone goodbye. Looking at Peter sleeping in his bed facing the door does a number on her, Peter definitely told her that he always slept facing the window because ever since he got his powers he felt the need to protect himself from possible dangers. Those problems should usually come from his window, not his bedroom door. She wants to wake him up, cry and hold him in a hug, but it’s almost half past one in the morning. 

Almost the entire kitchen is cooked up and covers the small table when May starts on the eggs, not that-pancakes, hash browns, bacon, sausage, fruit, orange juice, oatmeal, and his favorite brand of strawberry banana milk isn’t enough. 

“Woah!” Peter gapes at the table.

“Peter!” May jumps, “Good morning, sweetheart, I made all of your favorites, baby.”

“Alright, what’s wrong?” Only other time May used two pet names was when his fish died, and that was five months ago. And  _ “baby” _ ? That stopped when he turned fourteen.

May bites her lip giving him those big begging eyes, she says, “I can’t make my special little man something nice? It’s just you and me today so I thought we could have some fun, like old times?”

“That sounds nice,” Peter smiles, genuine for the first time in forever.

“Good,” May breathes a sigh of relief. “Eggs are done! So about half of things on the table are most likely inedible, but I tried my best.”

Peter laughs, taking a seat to gaze at the abundance of food in front of him, he looks to May and smiles, “I’ll still eat it all! My metabolism makes sure of that.”

“So how’s school? Finals are coming up, aren’t they?” May asks.

“Yeah...I’m having a hard time studying some of the material, though. Sophomore year might kick my butt.”

“You are the smartest kid at that school, you’ll be great,” May encourages, “and if you need it I could help you study.”

“Last time you tried helping me, I ended up explaining everything to you so you can even help in the first place,” Peter giggles.

“But didn’t you get above and beyond on that test? It’s up on the fridge if you don’t remember,” she winks.

Peter rolls his eyes and shoves a bit of pancake into his mouth before saying, “ _ All  _ my tests are on the fridge.”

“Exactly! This one’s not gonna be any different,” May smiles.

Peter can only shake his head and laugh.

“What about Jakub’s class, how are you doing in that?” May asks, hoping she doesn’t sound cautious.

“Fine.”

“Just fine? What are you guys talking about?”

“I dunno...just boring stuff.”

“There’s nothing you aren’t interested in?”

“I don’t know!” Peter snaps, going back to poking his food. “I’m not hungry anymore.”   
  


May watches Peter’s whole demeanor go from affonted and rigid to drooping right before her eyes and she isn’t sure how much longer she can maintain composure.

“That’s a lie, you’ve hardly eaten dinner all week. You’re looking worse for wear, sweetie.”

“I just don’t wanna talk about school, May, I’m good for other things, too.”

Her eyebrows shoot up at that. Slowly she thinks her words over, “Of course you are, I know that. You’re my hero with the great little booty.”

“May~” Peter smiles again, as if his earlier sudden snap and depression never happened. “I swear I don’t do squats.”

“No need to brag about it,” May teases.

“Ughhh,” he groans dramatically, “I’ll never put on that suit again.”  
  


They eat in comfortable silence, Peter forgetting his earlier claims of a spoilt appetite and eating everything on site plus an after breakfast snack. All is well, so long as she refrains from mentioning Jakub as well as all things relating to Jakub. It is during her time spent with Peter does May know what to text Tony.

To Tony:  
_ 9:07 P.M. _

| I need your help Tony. It’s Peter. Idk what to do. He’s falling apart right in front of my eyes. Has been falling apart and I’ve been so blind. I know you don’t owe us anything but he wont talk to me and I can't get anything out of him. I think something bad happened. I can’t explain over the phone. He might hear me |  _ Sent _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING ⚠️ Life Update Rant:
> 
> So I’m working with my coordinator about all the details for my film in South Korea. I waited a year for April to come-then it came, then it went. April 2021. I swear, if this COVID situation doesn’t get better because Americans want to be selfish and not stay home for a fuvking week, I’m just going to move to South Korea and say “suck my d!ck America.” 
> 
> I’m tired guys. I’m sick of all this nonsensical fighting over issues that shouldn’t have been politically charged and manipulated in the first place. 3 years now, this move will be out by 2022 if post production is slow. Because of all this wait time, I’m starting to think I know nothing and that I don’t have the script the way it should be and the camera equipment is going to suck. Ugh I’m panicking about everything.


	9. Whispering Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took too long. I had it written just not edited and the ending still bothered me.

_ “Are you available for dinner tonight?”  _ May tries to keep her tone under control, neutral, still hearing Jakub’s voice through the phone gives her inexplicable chills. However, this must happen, she needs to see his face in person.

_ “Of course, babe,”  _ Jakub’s calming, charming voice makes her blood boil but she bites her tongue-quite literally-as he continues,  _ “but I gotta say, this is a little last minute. Thought we already made plans?” _

_ “Sorry, I thought you liked spontaneity?”  _ She can’t take the bite out but he seems to not notice.

_ “Trust me, I do, but why don’t we stay in tonight? I’ve had a long day, and I bet you did, too. You can come over, crack open a bottle of wine, take things slow how you like it. Or I can go over there-” _

_ “No. Dinner is fine,”  _ May interrupts.  _ “Peter’s gonna be busy tonight, it’ll just be me and you.” _

_ “Alright.” _

__

__ If she didn’t know any better-with the limited information she  _ doesn’t _ really know better-but her maternal instincts are hell bent on one thought only and it’s tearing her mind apart. That one creeping thought made her stomach coil and slug up her throat. She needs to see him, to see for herself what she was so blind to before. She needs the truth and Peter is too sensitive right now to give it, not only that but she’s afraid to approach him with this. In her heart, she knows Jakub is innocent until proven guilty, but that belief doesn’t help her from being stand-offish and short fused. Proof. That’s all she needs to bring her allegations to the police. Previously, Tony was option A but he hasn’t gotten in touch with her, and for a man who revolves around technology it’s hard to believe he has yet to read her text. And the text after that. As well as the two others following those. She’s heard on the news about the Avengers being on the outs, talking about things she couldn’t really follow but could care less about so long as Peter wasn’t involved. If anything, Tony could be dealing with the law or whoever higher-ups he reports to, leaving no spare time to allocate toward a broken family in the low end of Queens. Proof. That’s all she needs. 

Peter leans on the wall outside Aunt May’s bedroom, listening to her shuffle about while speaking to Mr. Lew. She’s going on a date with him tonight when it's supposed to be movie night for all three of them, basically uninviting Peter. He’s okay with that, except it hurts she’s still going out with him. With a sigh, he pushes off the wall and goes to his room for his Spider suit. She’s going to see him, at least she  _ wants  _ him to be around. He can’t spend the exhaustive time thinking about how those same hands that use him, hold May. Kiss her. Had sex with her.

Unexpectedly, his chest tightens and his breath shortens to shallow gasps. Trembling fingertips blindly reach out to clutch the back of his desk chair, nearly toppling it over but luckily the seat catches under the desk and holds strong in this new awkward angle. A hand flies to his chest, to his stomach, his side, his heart-still no damage can be found, no one is in his apartment to hit him yet he feels like he’s been punched in the gut. The wind has completely been knocked out of him, and no amount of clenching his eyes shut or gasping can help release the snake winding tighter and tighter in between each of his ribs and closing the cage. As quickly as it started, the tension is easing away and he’s left with a sore chest and black spotted vision. He rubs it out, taking his hand away from the dent he’s made in the chair, and makes it to his bed on wobbly legs. 

No. Not tonight. How can he be Spider-Man right now? Peter laughs sharply, a pitch that hurts even his own ears, at the mere irony of it all. A hero who can’t save himself. He laughs again. Not just from the predators but panic attacks also want a crack at him. The last time he had a panic attack that badly was when he was a child, when he used to think about how his parents weren’t coming back for him. Panic attacks coupled with separation anxiety became second nature during that time.

“Honey?” Aunt May calls from someplace outside his room.

This will be the first time he’s using his voice after his panic attack, he hopes it doesn’t sound as wrecked as he feels, he responds with a hopefully strong, “Yes?”

“Can you come here for a sec, sweetie?”

Everything is screaming inside him not to move or he’ll fall apart, but it’s already too late. The pet names alone are crashing his weakened walls. She’s leaving for  _ him _ , Peter already knows she’s going to tell him the new plans for tonight and rub in how amazing Mr. Lew treats her. He doesn’t want her to go, she can’t leave him like this. Clutching the bed sheets beneath him, he sits victim to the tears that swell without his control. The hiccups and whimpers are without his consent, but nothing is these days. They burn hot and salty, full and heavy, as they stream to his chin and drip like thundering rain within the otherwise quiet bedroom. He doesn’t care that his bedroom door is opening or that May is seeing him like this, all he needs is a hug. Her hug and everything will be okay-until she let’s go and he’s forced back into himself and all the evils that she can’t protect him from but he so wishes she had that power. 

“Oh, baby, what’s wrong?” May is soft, by his side in an instant and pulling him into her arms. “I can stay home, cancel everything.”

Peter shakes his head, unable to form words.

“I won’t mind,” she insists and begins rubbing his back in long strokes, “we’ll relax all weekend. I was going to call out tomorrow anyway.”

“N-No, ‘m jus’ being a baby,” he mumbles in her shoulder. She can’t afford to miss a shift over him.

What happened to his high hopes of her finally finding the man she deserves? And in all honesty, Mr. Lew  _ is _ perfect for her-if the shadow of the sworn secret Peter made him keep didn’t exist in the first place. He’s messed it all up. He’s ruined what held the potential of being an amazing relation for all of them.

Peter holds her tighter, whimpering a quiet, “I ruin everything.”

“No, you don’t, Peter,” May brushes his curly hair back and kisses the skin there gently. “Where is this coming from?” 

He knows Aunt May has her suspicions, and for that Peter had banned Ned from coming over because somehow-someway Ned is involved with May’s changed behavior. She might know about the two of them. A pit in his stomach tells him that May knows about him and Mr. Lew, and although May can stop her boyfriend from coming to the apartment she can’t prevent them from crossing paths at school. If she  _ does  _ know about what’s been going on, she is still about to go out with him like it isn’t a big deal. He’s being crushed and torn at the same time just thinking about what all that must mean. Then there’s winter vacation, an ordeal that has him sweating through his sweatshirt. December 15th, a Tuesday, Peter recalls an altercation he and Mr. Lew had during his lunch period. The  _ how _ it started, Peter can’t remember, the  _ why _ -he couldn’t care less about, it’s the  _ what _ was said that is eating him alive from the inside out. 

  
  


December 15th, a Tuesday

“When is this going to stop?” Peter ventured to ask.

Mr. Lew seemed considerate, pursing his lips in thought, he finally answered with questions of his own, “Why do you keep coming back to me? Don’t you care about May?”

“That’s not fair,” Peter scoffed, leaning against a desk in the front row. Since when did this become casual? “I know if I stop showing up you’d do something to make this look like it’s my fault. I’ll find a way to prove what you really are.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Mr. Lew sat back in his chair, legs spread wide in an invitation or threat-Peter never knew the difference with him. “I’m as innocent as I was before this all started, when you came onto me on the boat. I didn’t wanna hurt you and end up with a lawsuit on my hands for assaulting my student, now would I? I’m afraid of what others would do or say, how they’d shun you for being a vile disgrace. What  _ boy  _ sleeps with his aunt’s boyfriend?”

He, for all that he is, spoke in a way that made nothing but sense to Peter, as if the entirety of that man’s conviction was backed by fact. Perchance it was, leaving Peter with a tainted reputation for the rest of his life, following him like a shadow, being judged for it like it marked him pathetic and monstrous. Except, there were pieces of him that relayed over and over about how ridiculous that all sounded, how it couldn’t possibly be his fault. Then why  _ did _ he keep up these games? Why did Mr. Lew know how to make him feel useless when he  _ knew _ the words were lies? Dropping his backpack to the tile floor, Peter walked to the desk and stared the man down.

“I can take you down, you know,” where that bravado came from, Peter is unsure, “I can make you disappear.”

“Is that a threat, kid?” 

“ _ When  _ is this going to stop?”

Mr. Lew stood up and placed a warm hand on Peter’s shoulder, he said, “Let’s get today over with, alright?”

“Don’t act like it's me making you do this!” Peter threw his burning appendage off, shoving Mr. Lew’s chest with his hands. 

“Woah,” Mr. Lew’s eyes were wide, surprised by the strength, “let’s calm down, okay?”

“I’m not making you do this!  _ Stop  _ telling me that! Just  _ stop it! _ ” Peter yelled, approaching Mr. Lew again who held his hands up.

In order to subdue the teen, Mr. Lew made blows at his weak spots: his family history.

“I’m trying to take care of you, Peter! Can’t you see that I love you? I’m trying to protect you from the consequences of your actions. My career is on the line here, too!”

“It’s not your job to take care of me!” Peter laughed, then laughed some more before they turned into gasps, “I don’t want you to! You’re not my dad.”

Mr. Lew crosses to put the desk between the hysterical boy, “You’re right, I’m not your father, and  _ she’s _ not your mother, but we’re  _ trying _ . You’re a mess Peter. Your  _ parents _ didn’t want you, your  _ uncle _ didn’t want you, your  _ aunt _ doesn’t want you- you’ve said it yourself. They  _ never _ wanted kids and then you showed up, dropped on their laps forcing them to take responsibility over things they never wanted in the first place. 

“You put her through so much, you know that? The first time she and I started dating, she went on about how her nephew was gonna look into me. What, she can’t live her own life without your consent? You’re so  _ controlling _ ! She’s a grown woman, kid, mind your damn business and stop being a burden.”

Peter froze after that, what was he supposed to respond with? It was  _ true _ , all of it, every single word of it. Mr. Lew might be a crap person, but he spoke the truth and it drove a knife in his chest each time. He didn’t say anything, he sank to his knees and let the tears cloud the events that took place after.

-

“Peter, you have to talk to me,” May pleads, “please, honey, talk to me.”

Peter stays silent, shrugging with weighted effort.

Sighing, May let’s Peter keep his secret until he’s ready, she quietly suggests, “What about Tony? D’you think it would be nice to see him?”

“It’s okay… ‘m tired.”

“Want me to stay?” May brushes his hair behind his ear, lifting his chin to smile at his moistened face. “I can make you hot coco?”

Peter nods, mhmm-ing to her suggestions. 

“Okay,” May brushes one last hair behind his ear only for the curl to pop back in place as it was, before getting up. “I’ll let Jakub know I’m staying home tonight.” Stopping at the door, May turns back with unshed tears, she says, “I love you so much, Peter.”

The ghost of his tears burn at his eyes again but he refuses to let them fall. Laying back on his pillow, he gives her a small smile and watches her leave. What terrifies her the most is how well Peter has kept his troubles a secret, and the minuscule hope she held onto about this not being the issue her instinct screams, is crushed to dust. All her mind seems to relay is: “How dangerous is Jakub?” Heart leaping out of her chest, her cell phone pings and she’s there in a breath. Tony!

From: Tony Stark

| Remote location. Important. Chat later |  _ 8:21 P.M. _

The dryness in her eyes indicates just how long she’s been staring at that five word text message. That’s it?  _ That _ is all Tony Stark can say? He must not have read the messages at all. Surely, if he had, he’d be here no matter how important his business is. 

“May?”

She’s in his room in an instant, eyes blinking the dryness away and gazing softly at her nephew. He’s so young, dammit! She smiles, hopefully, and replies, “Yes?”

“Go.”

Her eyebrows pull together as the tilt of her head shows her confusion, she says, “I’m sorry?”

“On your date,” Peter clarifies, “please? I just want you to be happy.”

“I  _ am  _ happy, Peter,” May feels her chest constrict, “I’m happy right here with you.”

“No you’re not. Mr. Lew makes you happy. I want you to go out with him tonight,” Peter’s eyes fill with his hopefulness, “please? I’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Peter-”

“May. Go.”

May has to go. Tony is out of the plan-has  _ been  _ out of the plan as he acted as more of a last hope kind of get-out-of-jail-free card anyways. That glint in Peter’s eyes tells May the words he can’t, the words he so wishes to say but feels prisoner from. She can see that he wants her to go not for what he said, but to see the truth for herself. To go on this date and to uncover the slithering scales beneath Jakub’s pure skin, to find the blood married to his smile, so she can discover the sins marring the halo above his head. She nods. Peter smiles. Nothing reaches their eyes in this moment. They see beyond each other, lost in their own thoughts they want to say but humanity and society say not to. So. They don’t.

  
  


“You seem…” Jakub purses his lips, hips shifting in his seat, as he voices an assumption, “bothered.”

“It’s Peter,” May answers immediately, looking to see if her nephew’s name does anything to this man. She licks her lips, dragging her front teeth over her bottom lip, she explains, “He’s hurting. I think I know who’s involved, too.”

“Oh, well that seems troubling.”

The breadsticks haven’t yet made it to their table and somehow her composure is unraveling faster than she’d anticipated. Yes, she’s very bothered. Jakub’s index finger tapping against the white tablecloth catches her attention. Seems as though he’s a bit bothered, as well.

“Do you have any idea how that could be?” May asks.

“How did Peter get hurt, you mean? Mmm...m’ not sure.”

Jakub’s eyes stare right into her’s, there’s a challenge in them screaming “Say it!” Those eyes, she’s stared at them before-many times before-how has she missed the way they seem to hold a spark of destruction. This new  _ smudge  _ reveals the insanity beneath the reeking charm, the blinding smile that lures you in close before it opens it’s unhinged jaws to swallow you whole. You won’t know you’re in the dark until his needle thin teeth puncture through the flesh of your trust over and over again, until you forget how you even got there in the first place. The darkness is enclosing her, trapping her in thick globs of tar. Then there’s Peter, so far away, so afraid and alone, standing beneath the light of his smile that’s about to swallow him, too. She gasps.

“What did you do to him?” May can’t feel herself. Can’t hear anyone else in the small outdoor eatery. “ _ What _ did you  _ do _ to Peter?”

Jakub’s eyes are wide, before a snarl replaces the shock, “Excuse me?” 

“What did you do!?” May yells, several tables dropping everything to look over.

“May, quiet down,” Jakub shushes, “I didn’t do anything to Peter. In fact, maybe  _ he’s  _ the one you should be taking this tone with, considering he  _ is  _ the one who did “something”. Before you start accusing people, why don’t you get the full story, huh?”

“How dare you. How dare you blame a child.”

“He sure doesn’t act like a child. If I’m remembering correctly,” Jakub leans across the table, he whispers, “he was all over me. Nothing I could’ve said would’ve stopped him. He dropped to his knees before I knew why.”

May’s mouth is open in shock, any sort of reply short circuiting in her brain. This is what she wanted to hear- _ proof! _ -this is what she needed to hear. Deep down she already knew this was the answer, the only answer, except she didn’t know the splash of arctic water would come crashing over her. 

“The truth hurts,” Jakub leans back with a smirk, all his cards flipping over and playing right into his perfect game. “If you try to stop me-” he waits patiently as a waitress fills his glass and the ice cubes  _ clink-clank _ , his eyes never leaving hers, before he dismisses young lady with a swift wave of his hand, he continues, “I  _ will _ take your nephew away from you. And you’ll never see him again, not even if you try your damn hardest.”

May’s nostrils burn and a sting with every breath as warm tears pool and spill down her cheeks. 

“But, whatever,” Jakub shrugs, taking a bite of his bread, and with a mouth full of his gluttony, he adds, “I’ll kill you before that could happen.”

He smiles around the bread in his mouth. Winks.

  
  


Tony

For the past several weeks or so, Tony’s received phone calls, emails, text messages all pertaining to the Avengers shit-show and other complaints in relation to that. After what happened, the constant stream of reminders really ground his teeth, so he told FRIDAY to send out automated responses until he was well enough to do it himself. Well, as of December 26th, he’s ready. Christmas was better spent with Pepper than with the barrage of crowds, charity gatherings, and judgment. Obligations seemed far away during that brief hiatus stint, but now Pepper is no longer in her Christmas cheer and wants him to finish at least one virtual meeting to discuss some very critical Avengers business. But there are no Avengers to deal with. Telling her that bought him an eye-roll and the click of her heels going off into the distance. He shrugged.

Obviously it was a joke, and he’s feeling like he’s in a somewhat leveled state of mind to most definitely handle the missed meetings Pepper has been postponing, rain checking, or sitting into. God, he’s glad she handles these things well or he’d be terribly drunk to his gills from the stress alone. She and Happy-and the very rare Rhodey-were the only ones with direct contact with him, not bypassing a machine to get to him. Having his phone back in his palm feels wrong and he almost wants to put it down but stops when he scrolls over five missed texts from a one and only May Parker. A quick glance over is all he gives those missed messages before he’s chugging his third cup of coffee of the morning and heading back to the workshop. He’s not ready for teen drama right now.

Now, as he’s tinkering in his workshop, AC/DC blasting his eardrums to dust, does he register the words of those messages and has that parental heart attack at the mere implications. He lifts his welding helmet and curses, hurrying out of the workshop. What hell was he thinking-evidently he  _ wasn’t _ . The texts were from several weeks ago, way before the holidays. From what May said, Peter is in serious danger. He’s lashing out in his classes and getting detention, quick to anger even with May, and he’s not doing his schoolwork. Lashing out. What does May qualify as lashing out in terms of Peter? Teens get snippy. But the kid doesn’t  _ lash  _ out _ ,  _ he speaks everything that’s on his mind, typically in that soft, tentative, whimsical way that’s unique to only him. That simple description-lashing-doesn’t fit into any of Peter’s character flaws. Everyone has flaws, Tony can write a novel on his, but Peter is still young and his flaws are usually stemmed from his immaturity or lack of experience. Then there’s the last text about him not being Spider-Man. For someone who went to great lengths to prove himself to suddenly find disinterest altogether, is enough to give Tony goosebumps. He hung out with a rough crowd in his youth, not thugs or anything, but crowds who did drugs and partied until the police showed up. He’d hear talk about people giving up on everything, even when they were dreamers and achievers. The ones who killed themselves always shocked him. It wasn’t until he grew older that he realized people who want to commit suicide don’t have a special look. They can look like Peter. Suicide could be farfetched, but why chance it?

Finger hovering over the call button for May Parker, he debates if calling her would be better than just showing up out of the blue. Screw it, he hits the call button and waits for the dial.

“ _ Hello, _ ” May’s tone suggests that she didn’t look at the caller I.D. prior to answering.

“ _ It’s Tony. I- _ ”

“ _ Tony? I- you- are you alright? Where have you been?”  _ May splutters, obvious that she’s containing her anger with all his practice and experience with Pepper. And much like the Parker she is, she asks if  _ he’s  _ alright while the real concerning matter is with her. Generous people.

“ _ I know you’re upset, but hear me out,”  _ Tony says quickly, already getting into his car with Happy behind the wheel. “ _ I was going through some personal shit and I turned off all communications. Stupid. I know. I know. I just...what’s wrong with Peter?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you like 'Dynamite' by BTS? 
> 
> This comeback is destroying me T.T 
> 
> After being ARMY for since 2014, I can say biases no longer exist- HOWEVER! Taehyung made me blind for everyone else. Yoongi's hair (JUST the hair) is my current bias wrecker. Goodnight. I hope you are all healthy.


	10. What’s in a Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The missing timeframe between Tony making contact with May and Jakub making contact with Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by ‘No One Else’ sung by Denée Benton
> 
> TW

December 24th - Whispering Woods

The moon.

A break in the trees overhead reveal the steady twinkling of the stars, they litter the sky like specs of sand over a black infinity. They pull with a promise to keep him.

  
  


December 22nd - Queens, New York

Aunt May stumbles through the front door, purse flying through the air in a wild toss and landing against the floor, then continues to stagger on winded breath. Peter is out of his room the moment the door slams back, hitting the wall and rattling the frame above the key hooks. Words don’t seem to register, so Peter side-steps around her and closes the door with a soft click, then wraps his arms around May. He knew this day was bound to happen, that his and Jakub’s secret would be revealed, he just didn’t know how caged and owned he and May would end up. With one look in her reddened eyes, he doesn’t need Spidey senses for the chill to kick through every fiber of his being to know Jakub has won another round. This has all been his elaborate play from the beginning. This treacherous game of entrapment has caught its prey, screaming and wriggling it’s hardest to fight the sticky webs they’re trapped in. Webs he should so easily be able to fight against. 

“I’m so sorry, Peter,” May wails, “God, I’m- oh, Peter. My baby!”

May isn’t with him, she’s far into her sorrow and feeling of sinking failure. He can only hold her upright in his shaking arms, fighting the urge to lose the contents in his stomach. In a way, he isn’t here with her, either. He’s living the worst days of his life - his parents leaving, Uncle Ben’s death, the building falling over him while fighting Vulture, Jakub. Jakub is everyday. Jakub is every one of Peter’s breaths. Stolen and twisted to make it look like Peter willingly gave it. Like it’s his fault for breathing at all.

“Baby, I’m so, _so_ sorry! It’s all my fault, Peter. It’s my fault...”

After that night, days didn’t seem real anymore. The fact that they now both know what’s happening, what’s going to happen again, and what will continue to happen until something changes-is terrifying. At first, he could almost pretend all of this was fake because he was in this nightmare alone, now she’s here with him, and not even her arms could keep him safe. Then she explained time, then time again, that Mr. Lew will kill her if she tries to get help, that he’ll take Peter away from her if they try anything. 

Peter can “Spider-Man out” so to speak, but that now puts May on the line, and every ending has the same image of his remaining family left being shot in the head. His fingers twitch with the urge to pull out his hair, kick and scream, wail and beg - all at once. He closes his eyes and tells himself things will be better tomorrow.

  
  


December 24th - Whispering Woods 

The Moon.

Under the moonlight-all the snow in the moonlight-he lets his mind lift closer to that glow and drift with the frostbitten wind. Soft, light to the touch. He doesn’t feel the cold on his back, nor the pain like he should. Everything has beautifully melted into some sublime nothingness. As if pain could never have existed at all. Warmth surrounds his mind, despite the ice that envelops his body and fills him treacherously. Up and chin to the right, his neck bends awkwardly. Fluffy snow shifts away and around to form a morbid angel, exposing the crime that disappears come morning. White air puffs over his face, the feeling similar to petrification. His lungs deflate with each staccato exhale, never filling back up. Something about his legs don’t feel right, the pinch at the very base as they stretch around prodding fire. 

The moon. This winter sky. All the snow in the moonlight almost looks crimson. Stained and dripping. Thud, his heart rate rattles and drums until he’s adrift, soaring, flying with every disconcert of the far off reality. Above the ground, afloat with a free, wandering glide. Everything is numb, distant, quiet, and suspended. Above the ground, above him, through the opening in the trees, he sees the full moon glowing over his skin. Moonlight bursts into his mind, he trusts where it wants to take him. Where childlike eyes and a distant smile can be kept safe from corruption. Up, up, he feels himself levitating toward it. To be an angel again. He’s almost there, the beautiful nothingness the moon promises him. Toward the joy and life stolen from him. To the soul the secret seeped out of him. 

Too soon it’s over, and he’s falling down. Breath fills his lungs with a gasp, his stomach lurching from the height of his fall. And for this one repulsive, betraying moment, the moon lets him fall into himself in time to feel his body convulse in an unwanted dizzying high. He hates it and he hates the moon for letting him fall, however hatred can quickly dissolve when safety and promises cover him in moments, again. He can fly away to the place for just him. Where nobody knows what hurts him.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Jakub is deep in his ear, so close the warmth is wet as he says, “it’s our secret.”

He might be able to forget it all, if he could forget his name. Forget the pain that comes with it.

  
  


December 26th - The Present

“ _I know you’re upset, but hear me out,”_ Tony says quickly, already getting into his car with Happy behind the wheel. “ _I was going through some personal shit and I turned off all communications. Stupid. I know. I know. I just...what’s wrong with Peter?”_

_-_

Time is a fickle thing. Timing, well, even _more_ so. Peter isn’t upset, he isn’t angry at anyone, not toward a single soul on this planet. December 24th came and went, as did Christmas. Two days he’d spent away from May, his beloved Aunt May, for the first time in his life with her. Jakub had become unhinged that day, December 23rd. Absolutely wild. He came in and made sure they both knew who was in charge, and pointing a gun at May’s head did more than enough convincing for Peter. He submitted, he gave in, he let the fight go. The bruise on his bicep faded like all the other times Jakub had man-handled him, so when his tormentor tugged him out of the apartment he wasn’t surprised to find the hidden strength there.

Jakub took him upstate to his cabin in Whispering Woods. The entire time, all he could think of was how Aunt May was alone, that this Christmas was going to brutally brand them of these memories. Christmas Eve ruined Peter first. Christmas Day ruined him as a reminder of the previous night being a nightmare in comparison. Jakub called it a present, though, one Peter should appreciate. He opened the boy fast, like a present of his own, tearing into him like a new toy. After the initial joy that comes with new obsessions wanes, Jakub took his time like he loved Peter. The moon was awake in Peter’s mind, long enough to find freedom from trauma. But not freedom from memory.

-

“ _Tony, shut up!”_ May yells. _“Peter- he’s been taken. He-he- oh my God, there was a gun- he took Peter from me. Said not to call the cops or he’d kill him. He’s gone! Peter’s with that monster!”_

 _“May,_ May! _”_ Tony yells to get her to stop rambling in panic. Dammit. This is bad, this is worse than bad. He breathes deeply before saying, “ _Who took him and where is he?”_

 _“Jakub!”_ He hears her trying to catch her breath. _“I don’t know where they went. He made Peter pack a suitcase, something warm to wear. I don’t know- I don’t- Jakub owns several cabins upstate. I’m sorry, I can’t remember. I’m no help.”_

“Happy stop the car,” Tony can’t help the panic from beginning to show, but tries his best to speak calmly to May, _“I’m gonna find him, don’t worry. You’re doing fine, May, try to get your breath back under control and stay present. Don’t worry, I’ll get him. I’ll find him, I promise.”_

Tony gives one look to Happy that says all he needs before he’s getting out of the car, and with a click of a button on his watch, his suit forms around him. FRIDAY maintains the phone call and transfers it into his suit. Upstate. Somewhere upstate Peter is in a cabin being held hostage. For what? Money? Does this Jakub guy know about Spider-Man?

_“May, can you tell me this guy’s last name? Why’s he so interested in Peter? ‘S it Spider-Man related?”_ He knows he’s bombarding a panicked woman, but the faster he gets answers the more information he can dig on this guy.

_“No, it’s nothing to do with Spider-Man,”_ May sounds more level headed now and pauses a moment to think. She says, _“He’s Peter’s new English teacher, Jakub Lewandowska. Um, he moved here a little while back and, uh, I started seeing him after his sister introduced us. Things were going so well, Tony. He didn’t seem dangerous. I didn’t suspect a thing because he seemed so damn nice. Peter told me he really liked him.”_

Before May can fall into more tears, Tony quickly gets her back on track, _“Why did he take Peter? Money?”_ Money wouldn’t make sense considering how the two of them live, Peter just isn’t ransom material. Unless, Jakub knew of the supposed “Stark Internship” and thought that could have some leverage. Tony hasn’t received anything in regard to threats of that nature, and nothing about Peter. So this is personal. When May still doesn’t reply, Tony prompts her again, _“Why, May? What aren’t you saying? I need to know so I can help him.”_

 _“Tony…”_ May clearly hesitates, _“Jakub’s molesting him.”_

_“Wh-”_

Tony can’t feel himself flying, suddenly not aware of anything around him. The suit must notice because the autopilot takes over so he can wrap his mind around this properly. Impossible. There’s no way, no way in _hell_ , could he have allowed Peter to fall victim to the unspeakable. The suit evades another building as Tony’s mind travels at warp speed. How could shit like that even happen? No. Tony comes back to the present and kicks his boosters down to shoot into the sky and away from all the buildings, he needs clear skies right now. There’s got to be some communication errors going on here, maybe she’s thinking something that isn’t happening. Over protective nature of a single guardian. Still, the words fill his mind to the point he can’t think of anything else. 

_“Are you-?”_

 _“Yes,”_ all this fire surprises Tony, _“that monster told me himself. The look in Peter’s eyes, God, I should’ve seen it sooner.”_

 _“Okay,”_ it’s a lame reply, one Tony instantly regrets the second it stumbles out. May doesn’t say anything about it, possibly knowing already how Tony is trembling with rage, vaguely focused on anything else but on finding Peter. Tony takes a deep breath and tells her, _“I’m going to find him.”_

May doesn’t say anything still, only cries and hangs up the phone leaving Tony silent in the sky.

“Fuck!” Tony screams. “FRI, look up property owned by a “Jakub Lewandowska”. Pop up a photo, too. I wanna see the bastard.”

“Yes, sir,” FRIDAY instantly displays holos of properties and a smiling picture of Jakub with Midtown Tech logos on it. “There seems to be fifteen known properties. Five are within New York, three are nearby.”

“The three nearby, what are they?” Tony asks.

“Cabins, sir.”

“Map ‘em. Fastest route. ETA.”

“Of course, sir. Ten minutes until arrival, sir.”

“Call Peter,” Tony says as he kicks into hyperdrive and jets toward the direction of the first cabin. 

After several rings and still no answer, Tony tries again. Again. Again and again. The kid is usually instant when connecting the other line for him, unless Peter left his phone at his apartment. This has got to be the tenth time he’s dialed the kid.

“Your call cannot be completed as dialed, sir.”

“What? Dammit!” Tony yells. The kid’s phone must’ve gotten turned off.

-

Peter stares down at the black screen, at his own reflection. Jakub is right, Tony never had his best interests at heart and should be ignored from here on out. Not that he has much of a choice with Jakub. One thing he agrees with, is that Peter’s asking to be saved from what _he_ himself had started. He did this. Peter did this. He did this. All of it. The snow. That cold morning. He did it to himself and he can’t call for help because he just doesn’t deserve it.

-

At first, he thought of being ballsy and busting through the roof of the cabin, but after some deeper thinking he’d rather not frighten the kid. Being kidnapped by a pedophile must have him on serious high alert, if not in a constant panic attack. So he gave knocking a chance and when that didn’t receive an answer, he kicked the door down.

“Peter! You in here?” Tony calls into the dark cabin. 

No, clearly no one has been in here for quite some time. For one, it’s freezing in here, and secondly, it just has that feeling you get when you think a place might be haunted after it’s been left alone for too long. To be sure, he scans the entire area and calls out several more times. Tries to call Peter again to maybe hear the phone if he’s turned it back on but nothing, so he takes off to the next cabin. Two more cabins. That’s _if_ Jakub took Peter to his cabin at all. This could be a waste of time while the kid is actually within the other two properties-or in fucking Canada. Why would this guy need so many damn properties? Who does he think he is? Any one with that many properties who doesn’t rent them out or have people to stay in them is obviously shady. Tony owns a lot around the world, but he’s _Tony Stark_ and he needs places to go for business and places to go offgrid. He’s Iron Man for Pete’s sake, Jakub is some English teacher who probably has been molesting children for a long time now. They don’t just spontaneously start on their students, no. There had to have been a victim from a long time ago.

He knocks once before kicking it down. 

Tony gasps.

-

“Stay still, Peter,” Jakub growls, but Peter won’t listen. 

Jakub snatches at Peter’s ankle as the teen runs across the living room and weaves between the couches. They’ve been going at this for several minutes now and Peter can see that the other man is getting tired. If he wanted to, he could leave and run deep into the woods to lose the older man, but a gnawing fear of leaving this man unwatched keeps him inside the cabin. What if Peter escapes and, say, Jakub tips over the very fine thread of sanity he’s currently balanced on and kills some innocent bystander? He could shoot the families camping all over this camping ground. That would mean ruining more lives than just his own and he can’t live with the thought of that happening. So he stays. He evades and tries to keep at least twelve feet apart. When he started fighting back he thought it was a good idea to tire Jakub out, now he’s tired out but anger is quickly filling its place. 

“I swear, if you don’t do as I say, I will shoot you right between the eyes,” Jakub seethes, “then I’ll go back to your apartment. I’ll creep in during the night. After she’s cried herself into a fitful sleep, makeup a wreck to see, hair knotted from her clammy hands constantly threading through it. I’ll break her bones. One at a time. Watch those big, brown eyes light up just for me. And when I’m finished, I’ll tell her how much you fucking begged for my cock to take you. I’ll tell her her nephew is a whore right before plunging a knife right into her throat.”

Peter is shaking uncontrollably, maybe from the anger somewhere deep, but mainly with fear and the hyperventilating. This is why he can’t leave him alone like this. Somehow, somewhere down the line, it’s become his responsibility to make sure Jakub doesn’t hurt anyone else. The more he thinks about how this started, the fuzzier his thoughts get and the more out of touch he feels, so he doesn’t think about it much. He only knows what’s happening now, or what Jakub is _trying_ to do right now. 

“Please,” Peter begs, voice wobbly and strained, “please, stop. I-I can’t do it, again.”

Each time he gasps through the sobs, the quickened breathing, it sounds like a wheeze and tyrannically scratches his throat all the way down. He coughs and gasps again, this time gagging as bile climbs its way up. Jakub, his shoulders hunched over and his body crouched, looks like a feral animal hunting his prey. His eyes are so dark, and it could be Peter’s mind playing cruel games with him, but the whites of his eyes are completely gone. Something sinister this way comes as the vision around Peter’s eyes go blurry and dark. With the amount of shaking tremors coursing like rapid fire in Peter’s legs, he’s grateful they haven’t given way under him. Lord knows how much standing hurts. With the couch now between them, he feels better than he did against the wall exposed and vulnerable. He can lean forward on the couch, his hands gripped so tightly on the beige velvet. 

“Please, stop, you’re scaring me,” and he has never sounded so small before, but it’s so true once he gets those words out. He’s aware of the pounding in his chest, the constriction on his throat, the tears and hiccups, the shaking, the soreness where he doesn’t want it. “You’re scaring me!” Peter wails.

“I am?” Jakub smiles lopsided, sending shivers over the crying boy, “I’d like to taste your fear.”

Peter shrieks when Jakub bounds over the couch, across it, faster than he could have anticipated. From the anxiety flooding his body, maybe his spider abilities have stunted, his speed and reflexes no better than they were prior to the bite. Barely, he’s able to dodge the hand that looks more like talons and scurry to the other side. Turning sharply, his foot gets caught under the rug and he trips with a yelp and hard thud. There’s no time to get up again, Peter knows that, he also knows the front door is right there and with a single ditch effort he could be in the woods. However lying like this, he suddenly feels the ice cold chill smothering him, burning his skin until they blistered and scorched. No. He won’t go back there. 

Lost in his mind, he can’t react quick enough before Jakub is on top of him. It’s all Peter can do to not lose control of his bladder, but he wails and begs louder to no avail. Jakub is past the point of talk. He is very aware that after Peter he’s going to jail for a long time. So. Jakub doesn’t waste time getting what he’s been lurring Peter in for. But the fear, the blurry vision, the calloused hands all over his body-tugging, pulling, scratching, pinning-the voice and laughter, the knee between his legs travelling further and pushing too hard. Peter disconnects. He squirms and pushes that calloused feeling away until it pops, but the dark fear is too consuming and the sound means nothing to him. Peter uses the rug to pull himself further up and away, trying to rid his mind from the screaming pain coming from Jakub, ignoring the warmth over his skin. When had his jeans come off? That thought is lost the moment it enters his head, as nails dig into his upper thigh and pull him closer to the source of all his misery. With little thought, Peter kicks up harder than he’s ever kicked in his life. The sickening _crack_ makes him jump and he's back in the present, completely aware of what he’s just done. 

Jakub’s neck is bent, a knot the size of a golf ball showing where his neck should be. His jaw, it’s shifted and askew. Peter shivers at the site. Jakub’s hand, well his wrist bone is out and splintered like a broken branch. Peter vomits onto the rug.

He shoves the body off of him in a fighting scramble. Scurrying far, far away until he hits the wall furthest from the door, Peter huddles into a fetal position and sits there in the ringing silence. It’s like a bomb went off in his head, everything is scrambled and nonsensical. All he knows is that he’s done something very wrong here. Jakub knows it, too, with his cranked neck still up toward the ceiling, his eyes locked right on Peter’s. There’s nothing to do, nothing in his brain makes sense. He can only sit in shock, eyes wide, cabin getting darker as the sun sets. Jakub’s lifeless body laying on his stomach, eyes locked into his. His soul is gone. His eyes are empty and...and cold. Hollow. So very hollow. Hollow. He killed someone. He took another person’s life away. He killed them, and it was so easy. Peter can’t seem to close his eyes, he can’t look away from the awkward bump of Jakub’s neck, to the lips that don’t line up and those nowhere eyes. He doesn’t remember the ascent into that warm heaven his mind has created for him, he only knows that he’s safe now.

-

Tony can’t believe his eyes. Sitting in the dark, is Peter, and directly across from him is the body of Jakub. This wasn’t how Tony thought he’d find him: unblinking, stiff, cold, unresponsive. After a brief debate of whether or not he should turn on the lights, he decides not to for the sake of keeping the dead’s bloody details veiled. So, he steps over the rigor mortis body and puts all his focus onto the child huddled into a ball not six feet away. 

“Pete...Peter, what happened here?”

It’s obvious, dammit! The kids pants aren’t on, they’re thrown over the couch and near the cold fireplace. When he first walked in, it would have been pitch black in here without his suit illuminating the gruesome scene. The kid’s been in the cold dark staring at a dead body, fuck.

“Kiddo, it’s Tony.”

Taking a blanket from off the couch, he lays it over Jakub’s body and finds a light switch. There are flower pots tipped and broken spilling soil, pillows thrown, chairs flopped, blood under Peter’s nails and across Jakub’s cheek. Shit. Tony steps out of the suit and crosses the room to pull the blanket up higher. No blanket is big enough to cover what happened here. 

Not once when moving Peter into his arms does the kid react, nor does he blink or turn away from the blanket covered body. Tony’s entire presence is invisible to him as it seems. Deep set shock. 

This is the one thing Spider-Man, _Peter_ , would never do: kill, even the bad guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :( 
> 
> I knew I wanted Peter to kill him via neck snappage, but this honestly got so brutal so fast. I got shivers. 
> 
> In spirit of the fall season fast approaching, here's a little spooky story:
> 
> Jakub's "Evil" side, for lack of a better word, is inspired by a true story of this time I was walking in the city with friend after we had just finished filming around midnight.  
> We were walking behind this couple when a man approached us from the right. He would not stop staring at us and my own lack of compulsion made me glance at him every once in a while. My friend kept telling me to stop but I couldn't. We got to an intersection and remained behind the couple at the crosswalk. The timer kept ticking but I couldn't hear anything. I just saw the pure demonic evil in that man's eyes as he circled me and my friend. I stared him right in the eyes and knew everything he wanted to do to us. MY friend grabbed my hand and whispered into my ear that we had to run, and I knew she saw his eyes, too. Lucky for us, we kept close to the unsuspecting giggly couple in front of us and made it across the street. We ran like crazy to our hotel, the man still following behind. The hotel host, whom we had made friends with earlier that day, told us our car had arrived not too long ago. We got it and got the hell out of there. To this day, I see his eyes in my head and I can feel the evil pouring from him. It still gives me shivers when I think about it. Very lucky and blessed to have made it out unharmed.


	11. Someone's Gotta Take the Blame

Red and blue flash brightly around him before he forgets their presence altogether, once again. Pulsations of light scan the walls in their rotational spin, hypnotizing him in a dizzying haze. The sirens cut out, as do the voices. 

Briefly, he recalls Tony Stark being above and around him, but he’s gone too fast for him to count on it as real. Mr. Stark’s eyes were so big. Naturally, he has those large, circular, and innocent eyes despite the reputation of those same eyes flirting with many scandalous activities-still, those eyes were bigger yet as they peered down at him. Fabricated, most likely, because he and Mr. Stark haven’t spoken in months let alone seen each other. 

Once school started, he was told to lay low and Peter was more than willing to stay put and look out for the little guys. To receive the cold shoulder when he needed him so badly is a pain he forgot about, but it’s resurfaced and so has that need. No. How could he rely on his mentor for everything? It would be insane. Illogical. Tony Stark is not his father.  _ Never _ did that man ever say that Peter was his whole responsibility and that he’d be there for him at all times. That was a job left for his parents. It wasn’t Ben’s or May’s-he isn’t their son, they never wanted children and were content with living their “happily ever after”. He can’t help but think that if he hadn’t been plopped on their laps, none of this would have happened. For a second feeling much like static, Peter lets the shivers control him again as another voice grows closer. Then the shivers are gone, at the same time, his mind decides to flee deep within.

“His mother is goin’ ta’ meet us at the hospital,” an officer says.

“His aunt,” Tony corrects, “May Parker.”

The officer nods, “Right, well, fire chief’s gonna take it from ‘ere. We’ll be round to ask the VIC some more details later.”

Tony nods, left arm wrapped over his stomach as the right elbow rests on it, hand scratching at his goatee to self soothe.

The police officer begins to walk away, heading to his car.

“And it isn’t ‘ _ VIC’,  _ his name is  _ Peter, _ ” Tony angrily calls.

Right. 

The officers are done here, off to write the report of this disgusting and tragic night. Tony almost has enough time to spiral into his darker thoughts before a paramedic begins approaching Peter and he’s sent back into high alert. He steps beside the paramedic and takes a protective position next to Peter in case the kid freaks out. It was hard enough to see them bag up the body and watch Peter tense and shake, he’ll never let anyone hurt him. Again. He’ll never let anyone hurt him, again.  _ Dammit _ .

“Peter? Son? Can you hear me?” The paramedic asks gently. “I’m with the North Bay fire department, my name is Dave. I heard from Officer Nancy that you were having a hard time responding. Don’t worry, you take your time. I’m just gonna shine this small pencil light around your eyes, all right, nothing too bad. I’ll be as fast as I can because I know this little sucker could be annoying.” 

As Dave said, he shines a light near Peter’s eyes and notes that his pupils are blown incredibly wide, barely dilating under the light.  _ Shock. Possible dissociation _ . He doesn’t mention it though and smiles while clicking the penlight off, stuffing it back into his vest pocket. One look toward Tony is all the inventor needs to know about the situation: it isn’t looking good. Tony feels the need to smile, as strained as it is. A few whispers are said to the other paramedic, more for Peter’s sake most likely and not for secrecy. 

“M’kay, bud, me and my colleague Rachel are going to get you onto your feet nice and slow. We’ll be super careful and if you feel lightheaded or like you might faint, just squeeze mine or Rachel’s hand,” Dave instructs. “All right, up we go.”

Slowly, Rachel and Dave get on either side of Peter after some silent convincing for Tony to step aside, and place one of Peter’s hands in each of theirs and wrap the other arm around his back. They get him onto his feet, albeit shakily, but praises are still met with his efforts, and a gurney wheels into the living room. The kid is as steady as Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. Rachel rubs his back.

“Very good, bud,” Dave smiles with praise, “now we gotta getcha up onto this little bed. It’ll be super comfy and we’ll put this warm blanket over you, okay? One foot at a time, that’s it. Just gotta walk up this little step right he- careful, there we go.”

“Should we lift him up?” Rachel asks Dave over Peter’s head. “I don’t want him hurting himself trying to jump up there right now.”

“Well, let’s see,” Dave says, “I don’t wanna underestimate him. Best to get him running again, his motor function is a bit awkward. Hm…” he smiles at Peter while he peers down, saying, “D’you wanna try hoppin’ up here, bud, or is it okay if we help you up?”

They wait a beat and Peter still seems unresponsive, however, his eyes have started to wander so it looks like he’s coming back. Rachel tenderly soothes circles over his upper back, her eyes showing how much she wishes to hold him.

Dave prompts again, “Is it okay if we lift you up? It’ll only be for a second, bud, then we’ll be on our way to meet up with your aunty.”

The mentioning of his aunt is enough to startle him, and the others, as he nods his head and whimpers out a sheepish and breathy, “Yes, please.”

“Good boy,” Dave smiles, “okay, let’s get you settled in.”

Rachel and Dave lift Peter up together and gently lower him back onto the gurney. Like promised, Rachel collects the fallen blanket into her arms. First, she places a shock blanket across his body, followed by the faux mink blanket to fend off the frosty air outside the cabin. The team gets to work and takes him out into the snow and onto the ambulance as quickly as they can. With Peter being in shock for this long, his body heat is vital in keeping his organs safe and blood flowing properly. Once inside, a blood pressure cuff is attached and an oxygen mask is loosely held over his mouth and nose to help with his slightly laborious breathing. 

Tony watches with a morbid sense of detachment. The second he found Peter, he knew this was something civilian related and in no way was Iron Man useful right now. He could scare him crashing around and firing repulsor rockets to the man who did this to the kid, even with him already being dead. He’s sent Happy down to Queens to procure May a while ago so he could stay and watch over Peter during transit. 

And the kid did such a good job during the drive back to the hospital. That was until the shock started wearing off and the tears erupted. He tried, he gave his honesty and genuine attempts to calm down, but fear overcame him and his breathing picked right back up. Peter nearly choked on his apologies, all of which were met with shushes and reassurances from Tony and Rachel. Maybe if May were here he’d be easier to bring down from his hysterics, but with one injection from the paramedic, Tony figured it’s best not to think of what if’s right now. Stay in the moment, he tells himself over and over again. 

“Where is he? Where’s my baby?” May nearly crashes into him as she runs with Happy loosely behind her. 

They’ve been at the hospital for almost an hour now, he can’t imagine how stressful the drive must have been on May. 

“He’s being checked out,” Tony answers.

“Where is he?”

“With doctors who are helping him out, cleaning him up, and soon enough you’ll be able to see him. He’s okay.”

May shakes her head, looks Tony in the eyes, “Tony. Tell me the truth.”

Tony looks to Happy.

“The truth!” May demands.

Visitors and patients in the waiting room all turn their way, but with a glare from Happy, they mind their own business. Tony takes May away from prying eyes and a little ways down the hall. Happy lingers not too far from them, obviously with ears wide open while he makes sure people keep their distance.

“May, I don’t want to lie to you…”

“Then don’t. Tony, I swear to God, is Peter okay?”

“May…”

“Tony, please.”

Tony sighs, runs a hand over his face then through his hair. Itches at the nape of his neck, slides his fingers through his hair once more. Sighs. How can he tell this loving woman that her sweet and equally as loving nephew was assaulted? He grabs both of May’s shoulders tightly, loosens his grip with an apology, and holds her gently.

“I’m sorry-”

May’s eyes swell with tears as she shakes her head and places trembling fingers to her wobbling lips. She breathes, “No.”

“I was too late, too  _ slow _ . I wasn’t able- I couldn’t stop it.”

“No,” May whimpers, “no, no, no. Did he-? Was he-?”

“Yeah,” Tony quietly answers the unspoken question.

May falls into Tony, her legs giving out beneath her, a stream of “No, no, no, God, please, no” tumbling out in sobs.

“I’m so sorry,” Tony says into her hair. He looks to Happy, not at all shocked to see the gloss covering the man’s eyes, sure that he has the same expression. 

“Where is he?” May straightens up, brushes her hair away from her eyes and behind her ears.

“The doct-”

“No. The son of bitch who ra-raped my baby.”

Another glance to Happy, another sigh. He feels nauseous as he says, “Dead.”

“Good.”

Tony isn’t shocked to hear that, no, but to see the fire in May’s eyes sends a chill through him. He can’t agree with her, nor can he deny her. To wish death on someone isn’t something he stands by, he is after all a superhero with morals on all matters of life. They didn’t even wish Loki were dead, only locked up so he can enjoy his defeat forever. If Iron Man walked into that scene, he’d take Jakub away to be locked up for the rest of his miserable life. Except Iron Man didn’t walk into that scene, Tony did, and if it were up to him he’d make Jakub suffer to the brink of life. Death was too kind. He deserved to suffer so much more, deserves to suffer for as long as Peter is going to-longer than. He pulls May to his chest again, holds her head, and runs a comforting hand along her back. Family sees things differently, though, and his pain will never match hers. She watched him grow from an innocent baby to a superhero. But he’ll always be a baby to her, to her aching heart. Tony shuts his eyes and imagines all the ways he could murder Jakub. Morals be damned.

If May took in all what the doctor said, Tony can’t tell. She looks like she’s listening, nodding here and there, but her eyes have this unfocused glaze. Happy told Tony he was going to find a restroom, the man looked close to losing it and Tony wished he could join him in the boxing ring right now. A psychiatrist also came and spoke with May, she wouldn’t let Tony leave despite him tearing his insides apart in not wanting to hear this. Peter’s mental and physical interface has multiple areas of concern (most of which are obvious and to be expected):

  * PTSD; resulting from frequent sexual manipulation and violent rape.
  * Dissociation due to trauma including amnesia, detachment, and a blurred sense of identity.
  * Dissociative experiences in regression to several years younger in result from trauma. One of his brain’s many coping mechanisms. His case is involuntary, in order to deal with high levels of stress.
    * These forms of dissociation should not be confused with having developed a Dissociative Identity Disorder.



If May took in all what the psychiatrist said, Tony can’t tell. 

Peter. God, Peter couldn’t appear any smaller, any younger. The bed absolutely swallows him up, but also the kid is skinnier and overall more vulnerable than he should be. Tony swallows the lump in his throat. He shouldn’t be here. This isn’t right. He should be chasing the bad guy, locking him up, and throwing away the key, not in this hospital room. But Jakub is dead. He’s dead and he didn’t tell May why or how. “Good.” Tony looks to May then back to Peter. God, this family doesn’t deserve the shit storm life they got dealt with. Good people can only raise better people. 

May gets caught between covering her mouth and opening her arms to Peter, crossing the room to pull him into a bone-crushing embrace. They sway from side to side, arms holding on with everything they have left. He couldn’t stand it. Peter didn’t ask for a hug from Tony, and he figures it’s because he’s a man or the kid is embarrassed for being found the way he was. Either way, Tony doesn’t push for contact-he’d leave the country if the kid asked him for any more space. Take Pepper with him and escape to Dubai.

Recovery (n.)

re-cov-er-y

/rəˈkəv(ə)rē/

  1. A return to a normal state of health, mind, or strength.



Synonyms: Betterment, improvement, comeback

  1. The action or process of regaining possession or control of something stolen or lost.



Synonyms: Regaining, redemption, getting back

Yeah, that, by definition, isn’t going to happen. Peter figures he will heal physically, faster than any of the medical staff could explain, and be released from the hospital by tomorrow. Two days max, to be cautious. “A return to a normal state…” How? A normal state? Appearance-wise, yes, he will be normal, but his state of mind could never be normal. To regain the control that was stolen from him, yes, he can do that. He can control so many aspects about himself now, that control giving him the decision to be as unappealing, unattractive, unwanted as possible. Peter Parker is no longer innocent and Spider-Man can no longer be as free-spirited as he once was. To those who ask him to do things, do they have an ulterior motive? Do they look at him with filth on their mind? Would they act upon those dark thoughts? 

Would he kill again?

The trial was hard. Admitting to what happened to him was harder. May looking right at him, crying her eyes out, was unimaginably painful. Tony Stark hiding his displeasure behind tinted shades was the hardest. 

Peter knows no one is angry with him, he knows they think he shouldn’t feel sorry or guilty, and he knows they feel responsible. He knows it and he still wishes they would tear him apart. Tell him what he did was unforgivable, that he is to blame, how he should feel guilty, and he needs to be sorry dragging them all into this. But the trial was fast because Tony pulled some strings and it was all very straight forward anyway, with the evidence being all over Peter. They went as far as to say he didn’t murder Jakub, it was an accident produced in terror and self-defense. His life was on the line. 

He wore one of Uncle Ben’s old suits, tailored to fit better, but still his Uncle’s. He felt slimy wearing it, tried peeling it off while May insisted it was all fine. Every time he moved, he felt the material drag against his sinful skin in ways that made him gag. He was too big in it, the fabric hugged him too tightly in areas he wished nothing could touch. He didn’t eat that week, only the pleaded meals May offered. They believed it was the nerves of the trial, the anxiety. Peter wanted to ruin himself, destroy the beautiful boy Jakub worshiped. What would his Uncle have done if he were still here? Would his own father be able to look him in the eyes? Tony Stark certainly can’t. Fuck. 

Tears stream down his swollen skin, the previous downpour of salty trails long before paving a way for faster-falling droplets. He’s stopped wiping them away, there’s no point. This vehicle Tony is taking them around in isn’t big enough despite costing more than his aunt can make in four years, he’s not far enough away from their prying, clean, eyes. May wipes his tears, the handkerchief cold and damp, and he lets her as he stares out the tinted windows. Thank God today is the final day.

“Thank you-” May is cut off.

Tony holds up a hand, glasses concealing his expression. “No need.” His voice is thick, too many words spoken to reveal too many emotions hidden.

He’s sitting across from them, Tony, looking forcibly comfortable. The SUV is bulletproof, a Lexani Cadillac Escalade, off-white interior, and shining wooden accents. Tony told him, quietly and encouragingly, that “It’s called the Sky Captain, isn’t that cool?” Peter can’t remember why he felt so small at that, the way Tony spoke in hushed warm tones that were quiet enough for just the two of them. Peter nodded because it appeased his mentor, but he hardly took his surroundings in. They’re on their way home, Tony will see to it that Peter gets something to eat and rest. May needs to call the school, but everyone at this point probably knows what’s happened. Maybe without all the details, but they know the new English teacher was on the news and there can only ever be one reason for that. Because he’s a minor, however, he has the power of confidentiality. Tony kept his involvement low key during the trial and outside the courtroom, never spoke up about anything unless he was on the witness stand. If someone were smart enough, they could piece together the relationships of Jakub Lewandowska and Tony Stark back to Peter Parker, the one and only connection the two men had shared. So, May is calling the school to tell them Peter will be out for the week, more if need be, and the school will have no other choice but to submit because the head staff knows about their situation. They send their deepest apologies. 

“I’m not hungry…” Peter says through his miserable pout. 

May deters but steadies herself when Tony turns around from the kitchen entrance, she holds Peter’s chin and runs a thumb over his peachy skin. “Remember at the courthouse? You promised me you’d eat something.”

“But now I don’t wanna,” he whines, and so what if he stomps his foot a little.

“Spaghetti-o’s, sweetie, only one bowl then you can lay down.”

May doesn’t let him respond, she smoothes the frown line on his cheek and squeezes his shoulder before retreating to the kitchen. Tony takes off his sunglasses and Peter decidedly likes him better with them on. Peter shifts under Tony’s unreadable gaze and pulls the hem of his suit jacket.

“Happy can come up,” Peter quietly says to break the tension.

“Think he said he was gonna take a nap in the car, s’been a long day,” Tony lacks the usual flippant tone, he’s so much quieter, softer. “Go get changed into something comfortable. Looks like your dinner is almost ready.”

“‘M not hungry anymore. I have a tummy ache”

“That’s because you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday night…” Tony tries for light joking, even if it’s true, but stops short when Peter turns away shamefully. “If your tummy still hurts after a few bites, you can stop, m’kay?”

Peter blushes when Tony reuses the same childish word as he, but he nods regardless and hurries off to his bedroom to change.

An oversized t-shirt and lose pajama bottoms later, he finds himself sitting at the booth with May on the end table chair and Tony in the booth across from him. He wants to ask if he could eat without them watching, but they’re eating, too, and he would sound ungrateful and controlling. The pillows around him are surprisingly getting him quite sleepy and he’s finding it increasingly difficult keeping his eyes open.

“Four more bites and you can go to bed, baby.”

Apparently, May has noticed as well. She’s smiling at him in that way she does when she’s about to coo at something cute. Tony, also, has a small smile playing on his lips. They’ve both finished their meals but Peter can’t remember ever having taken a bite, now he has to take  _ four _ . 

“Can Ned come over?” Peter meekly asks, dipping his spoon in and out of the lukewarm meal.

“You need rest, baby,” May tells him, her hand reaching to hold his, “and it’s late.”

“He can spend the night?” Peter suggests.

“It’s a school night for him, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Oh, yeah…” Peter eats half a spoonful and May doesn’t comment. A beat later, another idea comes to mind, “Over the weekend?”

“I’ll ask Sandra tomorrow,” May smiles, glad that Peter still craves to socialize. “But, you know he’s coming over tomorrow, don’t you? He wants to drop your homework off.”

“Oh...Oh, yeah,” Peter doesn’t sound enthused, nor surprised, he sounds like he’s disappointed with himself for forgetting that simple fact. 

That’s the deal these days. His memory is forgetful within seconds. He can’t even recall what he had for breakfast this morning, or if he had anything at all. The answer is most likely no, he didn’t eat, but there’s a nudge in his mind that’s telling him he did in fact eat. The past week doesn’t exist in his head, each hour disappearing as another hour ticks by. Ned is coming over. Ned is coming over.  _ Ned is coming over.  _ Hopefully it sticks this time. Is this his fourth bite? Aunt May hasn’t stopped him, neither has Tony-Tony’s still here. That means Happy is still here. How late is it? How long has it been since they got home? What bite is this? Oh, wait, his bowl is empty. His bowl is empty! The shock on his face translates to the adults in the room as they chuckle at his obvious lethargy.

“Good job, sweetie,” May coos, and it does something to him but he can’t figure out what.

Maybe he was hungrier than he realized-wait, no, he wasn’t supposed to be eating at all. Peter hunches into himself, arms wrapping around his middle uncomfortably. They tricked him so easily, what has gotten into him? Aunt May is cleaning up now, taking his bowl and wiping his mouth with a napkin before leaving. The action makes Peter feel achy in his chest, warm in his head, and not from blushing. Aunt May is here now, she’s going to take care of him and protect him from all the monsters. He doesn’t need to keep asking himself if he’s done something or if he’s forgotten, he doesn’t have to think at all. 

Yes. Peter doesn’t have to do anything right now, he can leave it all to May to take care of him, lead him when things get too much, and remind him to do everyday things. He doesn’t have to think about the heartache or nausea trying to make him feel ugly. Aunt May is calling him baby, sweetie, and honey, making him feel taken care of completely, safely. And just like that, something within him dips down and everything around him looks fuzzier, more colorful,  _ bigger.  _

Bemusedly, he tilts his head at Tony, kicks out his feet a bit before stopping them on his tiptoes. A noise in the kitchen makes his head whip in its direction to find May loading the dishwasher. May, May, May, May~ Her name is so pretty. Tony is still here. He turns back to the older man, who has yet to say hi to him and lays his head down on the table.

“Time for bed, isn’t it?”

There it is! Not a hi, but Tony's talking to him and that has the warmth spreading all over and stopping at his tingly fingertips. He sits up from the table and looks at his hands inquisitively. Why are they so funny looking? Peter emits a small, goofy laugh while he plays with his hands. May, May, May, May~ He giggles again. Now her name sounds funny!

“Well, look at you, bud,” Tony’s smile looks so goofy, so Peter laughs again. “Super sleepy, huh? Hey, May, I think Pete needs help getting to bed, I’ll clean up the rest.”

May comes out with a kitchen towel slung over a shoulder and her hair clipped back, she waves Tony off. “Oh, no, that’s okay, I’ll finish-”

“It’s nothing,” Tony gets up from the booth and crosses the distance to take the towel off her shoulder, if only he could take the world resting on there, too. “He needs to get to bed,” Tony leans in to whisper, “I think he’s dissociating.”

This wouldn’t be the first time they'd seen Peter dissociate, it happened every time they left the courtroom, once all the grown-up stuff was dealt with for the day and the boy wanted some release and someone to care for him. If it weren’t for his regression, he probably wouldn’t be so affectionate or calm. Any other time, Peter keeps his distance and refuses most physical contact, especially from people other than his aunt. Peter’s still quiet, very timid, but he’s gotten used to Tony and May seeing him like this, and he’s beginning to ask them to help him with things he normally would refuse them of otherwise doing. Like, tucking him into bed, for example. May is also the only person to trigger him into this state, a fact that makes her worried each time it happens. She’s called the psychiatrist, and the doctor said it’s fine, that he only feels comfortable around her and this is his way of asking for help, as for now. It’s recovery. Except, Peter can’t remember these moments and grows anxious when he admits to not recalling the previous several hours. They’ve explained to him the reason for that, but he dissociates far into his head each time that they try. Not the dissociation that regresses him, but a kind that seems like he’s staring off into space, entirely catatonic and unblinking. That’s how Tony found him. Each time it happens, he feels the same guilt and pain as the night he saw his precious...his intern sitting alone in that dark cabin. He’d take regression over catatonic any day. 

“Right.”

May lets Tony have the dampened towel and goes to her nephew with a newfound purpose. Peter looks up at her with such childlike eyes and not two seconds later he’s smiling brightly.

“C’mon, baby, let’s get you to bed.”

“‘M so sleepy,” Peter says it like it’s a new experience to him, voice filled with sincerity and childlike wonder. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

“Of course, baby.”

Tony watches them walk into the hallway, May leading the way for a very sleepy teen. Seconds later, he hears the kid ask another innocent question-and it is in moments like this that make Tony see red and feel the urge to scream blaming words toward the heavens. That wouldn’t make it right, nothing but support and time could try to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking such a long time updating. Times are so hectic and life doesn't seem to have a preparedness plan. Still, I'm doing well and I'm staying safe. I hope all of you are being mindful and safe as well :)
> 
> What activities are you guys up to lately? 
> 
> Stay safe! xo


	12. Author's Update

First, I'd like to apologize as this is not the update you most likely want to see.

As you well know, this last chapter has taken me an excruciatingly long time to upload. It's also taken me the same length of time to come to terms with my health, both mentally and physically. 

I'm in no way obligated to share, but I figured there's no harm with honesty, and you have all always been so kind to me that I don't mind providing these answers with you.

I've fallen very deep into my depression like the time before I got help and am struggling with not relapsing into self destructive tendencies. As for now, I'm dealing with the worst my ednos has ever been and it's taking everything and everyone away from me.

I'm so sorry for ignoring those who I've grown quite close to, but I will come back. I promise. 

Currently, I'm praying I can make it to April 6th as it will be 3 years of being sh clean. Thank you all for being sweet to me, I don't deserve any of it.

Wishing you all the best love and light during your darkest hours.

\- J.


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